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L t-l'fi-^" 

.■mmmm iMi i M i m i i n ™™™.™™. — — — -■I* 

This vounu n from 



MAY 24, 1943 

• » 

^JIajO^ <OvQc >^<iMp 'kAAA^iArtAK*^^ 

h^XttrtA, ll( 




Amos R. Wells 









MAY 24, 1942 


Alios B. WELLS 

Dedicated to my dear wife 

who daily lives a far more beaultful poem 

than I can ever hope to write 






Meadows! deep-reatonlng meadows, philoso- 
pher friends. 

How you have welcomed the blandering steps 
of a man ! 

Broadened joar green divan, 

Taught me jour temperate ends. 

Counselled of patience and peace and the in- 
finite plan! 

Tell me : out of what shadowy, mystic well 

Do you draw this fiood of content, this tran- 
quil air? 

How are you constantly fair, 

Ever hopeful and smiling and sweet? 

Where did your grasses dwell 

Before they came to lay their grace at my 

Whence did that tangle of vines 

Gather the cool and the calm it entwines? 

And where, O meadows, where 

Did you find the invincible gladness that 
sparkles and shines. 

Philosopher friends. 

As far as your fee extends? 

Rising, falling, the gentle contour unrolls 

Breathing of flower souls. 

Breathing of meadow-sweet, buttercup. Queen 
Anne's lace. 

Dear as a mother's face. 

Vocal with meadow-larks, yellowthroats, 
croon of the bee, 

Blithe as the children's glee, 

Momently pensive and grave where the cloud- 
shadows run, 

Steadily glad in the sun. 

Here is no schedule or system or scheme. 
Only a lawful disorder and riotous rule. 
Only the logic that lives in a dream. 

And the lore that mocks at a school ; 

Yet here what marvels are swiftly and silently 

What imperial garments are spun. 

What buildings are reared with no tool. 

What chemic empires are stanch ly won. 

What battles are fought without the crash of 
a gun! 

Unseen, unheard, 

In the dim green aisles of the grasses wind- 
ing afar. 

What governments are. 

Republics of moles and of ants and of brood- 
ing bird, 

Courts and diplomacies, treaties and balan- 
cing tribes. 

All without parchments or scribes ! 

Is it this that I feel 

As my spirit mounts from the meadows and 
ranges high 

Along the beckoning sweep of the kindly sky? 

This fulness of life 

Beating beneath me. outpulsing in shimmer- 
ing seal 

From a world with godliness rife ? 

Behold, O meadows, my friends, I am one 

with you ! 
Bound to your beauty, and joined to your 

firmness of law ; 
Stem outcropping of granite strong and true. 
Flowers without fiaw. 
Dallying butterfiles brightly afield with the 

Fatherly trees, 
Tender bourgeoning swells of the comrade 

And the birds that pass. 



Friends, I am one with you all. I leave ya^ 

Tlirough the round of the happy year ; 
Yet Koinff, I bear you away, and whereTer I 

My heart is your home. 
And blentiedly there, even there. 
In the winter you still are warm and fair. 
The clouds float over your bosom still. 
The birds and the butterfliea work their will, 
The trees are never bare. 
And Yonder — O meadows of earth ! I know. 

1 know 
I shall have you happily still wherever I go. 


Thou Shalt love the lx>rd with all thy heart. — 

Mark li: SO. 

If I would talk with God. my hasty tongue 
Must hold itself for that high converse pure. 
As one who has appointment with a king 
Scorns gossip with a minion at the gate. 
If I would listen to the voice of God, 
I dare not hear the prattlement of men. 
The Iwrgaining, the vaunting, the untruth. 
The words that crawl and sting; for ears 

have room 
For somewhat, and no more. If I would walk 
Beside my God, His comrade and His friend, 
I must go Ills way, He will nut go mine. 
If I would own the wealth of God. the gold, 
The gems of affluent heaven, like the dross 
Of Iwsest refuse I must hu^I away 
The spoil of greed and all the mi»er*s glut. 
If I would know the wondrous lore of God, 
What sciences I shall nut dare to know ! 
If I would wield the awful power of <iod. 
How I must sink mys4>lf in helplessness! 
If I would revrl in the* love of God, 
What lesser loves must I disdain to serve ! 
O Infinite, O liover, O Supreme. 
Father and I>eader and unfailing Friend, 
What littles must 1 gladly los«' fur Thee. 
What nothings must I tread l>eneath my feet 
To reach Thy hand. Thy bosom, and Thy face ! 


Kirept Jehovah build the house, they labor 
In vain that build it.— /'#. 1/7:1. 

Ily house Ik liuilded. Ix>rd : build it anew ! 

Once more the timbers hew ; 
And all the firm foundstion lay again 

In love for Thee and men. 

Beset the window-panes, so wrinkled now. 

And make them clear an Thou. 
Rnlarge the hearth and msgnify the door 

For strangers and the |KM>r. 

Insert a closet dedicate to prayer 
That I may meet Thee there; 

And build a workshop, wheresoever it be. 
That I may toll with Thee. 

The mansion of my building, let it fall, 

l.'nworthy, roof and wall : 
And in its place. O heavenly Architect ! 

A better house erect. 


I supposed I knew my Bible, 

Reading piecemeal, hit or miss. 
Now a bit of John or Matthew, 

Now a snatch of Genesis, 
Certain chapters of Isaiah, 

Certain Psalms (the twenty- third I), 
Twelfth of Romans, First of Proverbs — 

Yes, I thought I knew the Word! 
But I found that thorough reading 

Was a different thing to do. 
And the way was unfamiliar 

When I read the Bible through. 

O the massive, mighty volume ! 

O the treasures manifold ! 
O the beauty and the wisdom 

And the grace it proved to hold ! 
As the story of the Hebrews 

Swept in majesty along. 
As it leaped in waves prophetic. 

As it burst to sacred song. 
As it gleamed with Chrlstly omens. 

The Old Testament was new. 
Strong with cumulative power, 

When I read the Bible through. 

Ah. imperial Jeremiah, 

With his keen, coruscant mind ; 
And the blunt old Nehemiah, 

And Ekekiel refined! 
Newly came the Minor Prophets, 

Each with his distinctive robe. 
Newly came the Kong idyllic, 

And the trajri-dy of Job; 
Deuteronomy the regal 

To a towering mountain grew 
With the comrade peaks around it. 

When I read the Bible through. 

What a radiant procession. 

As the pages rise and fall : 
James the sturdy. John the tender,* 

O the myrlad-mindnl Paul! 
Vast apocalyptic glories 

Wlieel and thunder, flash and flame. 
While the church triumphant raises 

One incomparable Name. 
Ah. the story of the Saviour 

Never glows supn*mely true 
Till you read it whole and liwlftly. 

Till you read the Bible through. 



You who like to play at Bible. 

Dip and dabble, here and there, 
Jast before you kneel, aweary. 

And yawn through a hurried prayer; 
You who treat the Crown of Writings 

As you treat no other book — 
Just a paragraph disjointed, 

Just a crude, impatient look — 
Try a worthier procedure. 

Try a broad and steady view ; 
You will kneel in very rapture 

When you read the Bible through ! 


"Praise God ! Praise God !" the clover said, 

"for sunshine and the sky." 
And "Praise the Lord !" the brooklet sung, 

"the rain is drawing nigh.** 
"Thank God for frost," the squirrel chirped, 

"so k)nd to nuts and me.'* 
"For frost, that covers me with gold,** 

chimed in the maple-tree. 
And "Praise the Lord for ripened seeds,*' 

the chattering sparrows cried. 
"And for the wind," the seeds declared, "that 

bears us far and wide." 
"Yes, praise the Lord ! Oh, praise the Lord !" 

though skies were blue or gray. 
The hymn of earth and heaven rang through- 
out the happy day. 
Now none of this old Grumpy heard ; he's 

deaf as deaf can be. 
"This weather 's vilest of the vile ! a beastly 

day !" said he. 


Not all the doming majesty above 

When midnight spreads her statellness of 

More moves the soul than some imperial grove 
Where darkly silent rise the pillared pines. 
Their boughs withdrawn communing to the 

Not all the lifted clouds that catch the sun 
And break its rayo to glory, cardinal. 
Sapphire, the hue of spring, the flush of love. 
With that heaped splendor more delight the 

Than arbutus, the daughter of the snow. 
Couched in a cradle of the spring's first green, 
Warming her white with rose, her purity 
With graciousness. And not the hurricane 
That booms its terrors through the blackened 

Crashing a splintered world beneath its wrath. 
So awes the spirit as a golden day 
When, on the meadow prone, the listening ear 
Beats to the undertone of nature, vast, 
Retistless, loving, from her reservoirs 

Of solitude up-summoning the grass, 

The insects, and the flowers. Far or near, 

In mountains or a pebble, in' the sw^eep 

Of ocean's tossed horizons limitless. 

Or in the cup of some bee-fretted bloom. 

See the same might, the same enchantment 

For God is One ; or here or there, is One ; 
Beneath all surfaces, but yet the same; 
Within all voices, evermore the One ; 
Changing with infinite variety. 
Still in all changes His authentic Self, 
That loves the pansy as the Pleiades, 
Cares for the ant as for the universe. 
And close about the lowliest human lot 
Wraps all His power and ensphering love. 


Lord, if Thy hand, with swift, indignant 

Drove them afar to some unholy deep — 
These foul, unconquerable shapes of woe 
That weigh upon my soul and shame me so ; 

Lord, If Thy loveliness, all perfect-fair. 
Might awe these blots to hell and leave them 

Thyself unscarred by any sin of mine. 
And I in wondering pureness left to shine ; 

If that could be ! But oh, the bitterness. 

My burdens on Thy radiant form to press, 
My foulness on Thy purity, my sin 
Upon Thy love, all glorious within ! 

This be my battle impulse when the host 
Of evil passions throng and tempt me most. 
The thought that one beneath my shame must 

I, trembling, or, O Burden-Bearer, Thou ! 


(On his death. He led the first regiment 
of former slaves in the Civil War.) 

The regiment has waited long. 

Waited for the Colonel ; 
Dusky, patient, brave, and strong. 

Loyal to the Colonel ; 
Now, the weary furlough spent, 
(jarland the commander's tent ; 
Now the Freedmen regiment 

Has received its Colonel. 

See him, young and quick and fair, 

(Ever young, the Colonel!) 
While the happy trumpets blare 

Welcome to the Colonel. 
See the shining of his face. 
And his eager, swinging pace. 



All the unforfotten irrace 
Of the youthful ColoneL 

8«e the laughter In his eyes, 
(Bver-aprtfhtly Colonel) 

Hear his greetinga, merry-wiae. 
Ready, like the Colonel. 

Age and pain and weakneaa paat. 

Sorrow to oblivion cast. 

Back among his boys at last. 
Ah, the hero Colonel I 

Heavy with the loss of him. 

Ever-kindly Colonel, 
We, though eyes are sadly dim, 

WouM not keep the Colonel. 
Prom the armies of the skies. 
Prom the light that never dies. 
Prom the Wisdom endless wise. 

Who would hold the Colonel? 


Her eyes have seen the glory of the presence 

of the Lord : 
He was waiting In the gamer where the 

fruits of life are stored ; 
He was mindful of the warsong that was 

mightier than the sword : 

Of truth that marches on. 

8he had seen Him in the turning of her 

ninety golden years. 
In the press of human struggle, human want. 

and human tears; 
8he had seen His kingdom growing in the 

midst of woe and fears. 

His day that marches on. 

She had read a gracious gospel writ in many 

a gracious life. — 
Toiler, statesman, trader, poet, horo husband. 

hero wife. — 
8he had found the peace eternal in the midst 

of mortal strife. 

81nce (Sod is marching on. 

Where He sounded forth ills trumpet she 
would never call retreat : 

Where he led ills worn liattallons in the 
w«>ary dust and heat. 

How Mwlft her soul to answer Him ; how jubi- 
lant her fe<'t ! 

For (fod was marching on. 

In the t»eauty of the autumn, in the ahining 

of the s<*a. 
Hhe has found the great enfranchisement, the 

4'hrist of lit»erty. 
As llf di«*d to make men holy, so she lived to 

make men free : 

tier soul U marching on. 

By Half of an Old(lsh) Couple. 

Too think that all the world is fair ; 

art better ott the timet) 
Tou live In bliss, you walk on air ; 

r/f'a better all the timet) 
Tou*re eating manna from on high ; 
There'a not a cloudlet In your sky ; 
But there's a better by and by : 

ir§ better ALL the timet 

Sometimes you own to half a doubt 
(There comes a doubting time) 

If married rapture will hold out 
Through all the coming time. 

But let a veteran banish fear : 

Love never knows a waning year ; 

When lives are knit and hearts are dear, 
ir$ better ALL the titme / 


"What shall I give this Christmas?*' 

(Incidentally, "What shall I get?") 
"Mother and Father and Uncle, 
Harry and Flossie and Bet — 
Oh, and my friends by the dosen ; 

Dear ! what a worry and fret ! 
What shall I give this Christmas r 
(Incidentally. "What shall 1 get?") 


When I am tired, the Bible Is my bed : 
Or in the dark, the Bible is my light ; 

When I am hungry, it is vital bread ; 
Or fearful, it Is armor for the fight. 

When I am sick, 'tis healing medirin«* ; 

Or lonely, thronging friends I find therein. 

If I would work, the Bible Is my tool ; 

Or play, it Is a hsrp of hsppy sound. 
If I am ignorant, it is my schwil ; 

If 1 am sinking. It Is Holld ground. 
If I am cold, the Bible is my tire ; 
And It is wings. If boldly I aspire. 

Hhould I be lost, the Bible is my guide : 
Or naked. It in raiment rich and warm. 

Am 1 imprlmtned. It is ranges wide ; 
Or temiiest- tossed, a shelter from the storm. 

Would 1 adventure, 'tis a gallant sea ; 

Or would 1 rest. It is a flowery lea. 

l>oes gloom oppress? The Bible is a sun. 

Or ugliness? It is a garden fair. 
Am I athirst? How cool its currents run ! 

Or stifled? Whst a vivifying air ! 
Klnce thus thou glvest of thyself to me. 
How should I give myself, great Book, to thee ! 




An Easter Thought. 

It's a dark and narrow stairway to the room 
But I am not afraid to go. 
There Is room for only one on each winding, 
narrow tread. 
But I can feel the way, I know. 

There are stirrings now and then in the room 
There are dear old feet upon the floor. 
They are setting forth my chair, they are 
making up my bed. 
They are waiting Just inside the door. 

There are wide, wide views from the room 
And the heart of all home is there. 
I shall then begin to live, though men will 
call me dead. 
When I*ve mounted the narrow stair. 


While Speed is filling the bottle, Hurry is 

spilling the ink; 
While Speed is solving the problem. Hurry *s 

beginning to think. 
While Speed Is hitting the bull's-eye, Hurry 

is stringing his bow ; 
While Hurry is marching his army. Speed Is 

worsting his foe. 
Hurry is quick at beginning. Speed is quick 

at the end. 
Hurry wins many a slave, but Speed wins 

many a friend. 


Sixty-six singers, singing sweet and true. 
And setting all the world to singing, too. 

Sixty-six soldiers, vigorous and strong. 
Valiantly attacking cruelty and wrong. 

Sixty-six Judges, learned in the law. 
Uttering decisions free from fear or flaw. 

Sixty-six artists — wondrously they paint 
Kings and sages, common folk, angel, devil, 

Sixty-six explorers, keen to search and find 
All the hidden secrets of life and death and 

Sixty-six masons, marvellously skilled ; 
One majestic temple they unite to build. 

Sixty-six farmers, planting holy seed. 
Happily upspringing in holy thought and deed. 

Sixty-six teachers, keeping perfect sdiool. 
Where faith the law is, and love the rale. 

Sixty-six doctors, knowing well to cure. 
Masters of a medicine healing swift and sure. 

Sixty-six sailors, bearing us away 

To a better country, to a brighter day. 


Sing for Old Glory a Jubilant song. 
Lift up Old Glory and bear it along. 
Carry Old Glory with bravery strong. 
Live and die for Old Glory. 

Fair is Old Glory on land and on sea ; 
Free is Old Glory, exultantly free; 
Glad is Ok) Glory forever to be ; 
Live and die for Old Glory. 

Now for Old Glory a desperate fray ; 
Now is Old Glory's pre-eminent day ; 
Now for Old Glory to battle and pray. 
Live and die for Old Glory. 

Never in vain is Old Glory unfurled ; 
Deep in the conflict Old Glory is hurled ; 
Fight for Old Glory and fight for the world. 
Live and die for Old Glory. 


Deep in the horrors of the North, 
With gleaming eyes and steady soul 

Heroes compel their passage forth 
To pierce the mystery of the pole. 

Superb their passion, bold their aim. 
But ah, what barren goals sufllce ! — 

The echo of an empty fame. 

The conquest of a league of ice ! 

Comrades of clouds, along the air 
Speeding the way Columbus went. 

Oh, latest Argonauts, that dare 
The one unmastered element ! 

And yet what needless heroes they. 
Venturing life to find us wings. 

That men may have one other way 
To roam on fruitless wanderings ! 

With patient eyes, the long still night. 
Sages through starry Jungles grope, 

Happy, if some new speck of light 
Fall on the fortunate telescope. 

Their name is catalogued with it. 

The sky has one more charted spot ; 
But no more lights on earth are lit. 

And star and sage are soon forgot. 

Ah, happy he whose ardent goal 
Within the human spirit lies. 



Who In the regions of the tool 
Embtrks on daring enterpriie ! 

Dftngprs are there that arctic tea 
And tropic desert never know, 

Tempenta of paiwlon flerce and free, 
Wafes of despair and golfs of woe. 

And wings are there that soar and fly 
Above the snarling of the storm. 

To sunny reaches of the sky 

Where life is light and love Is warm. 

And there are galaxies afar, 

World beyond world in endless range. 
Where never imperfections mar. 

And never gladness fears a change. 

Not in the realm of braggart gold 
And crowns that glitter to the eye. 

Are meeds that bless and Joys that hold 
And purposes that satlnfy. 

But happy he whose honest mind. 

With all he loves and all he can. 
Is dedicated to mankind. 

And seeks tbe common good of man. 


A jubilant reach of rolling road 

And a new-made morning sky. 
Masterful muscles that need no goad. 

And a spirit that dances high ! 

Then a-swiog and a-plod through a doien 

Of the fragrance of ferns and hay. 
Of wo<MlMy fthadowM and meadow smiles 

And the awe«*t of the blossoming day ! 

Oh, what are the heaplngs of pride and pelf. 

The sum of an empemr'H bllMS. 
When a m|in may have the whole earth to 

On a glorious morning like this? 

I- am knee d«*ep now In the level g<»ld. 

And eyi»-de<*p n<»w In delight. 
And the proa|M>ct wide from the hill outrolled 

la mine by Imperial riKht. 

Riches and rlcliea. and all <if It mine ! 

The mesdow'fi unnuirkettH] k«kkIh'. 
The river (t<»ln»ndiiii thst s«>4*retly ahlne. 

And the w<'alth of the opulent woods. 

No need to l>eg. for It presses hard 

And oflTem Itnelf to me ; 
Ami happy the heart that Is all unbarred 

To the lavishing minintry. 

Bo a-swing and a-plod through the opening 
And the joy of a virginal sun. 

While the air la unsullied and vibrant and gay. 
And the earth and the sky are at one ; 

Till the masterly muncles are blessedly worn. 
The miles are triumphantly trod. 

And the sodl Is aglow with a benlHon. t)om 
Of vigor, and nature, and God ! 


Life is too short for hatred : not a day 

Dare thou to throw away ; 
Not one brief hour remaining of thy life 

To waste in barren strife. 

Life is too short for love : the pleasure sweet 

Of comrade joys that meet. 
The comrade labor, comrade hopes and fears. 

And all the comrade years ! 


I will not ask Thee for the grace 

I need so much : 
I only look upon Thy face. 

Thy cross I touch. 

I will not stop to tell my sin. 

My failures name. 
Or cast a further glance within 

Upon my shame. 

I will not stay to plead Thy word 

Or urge my woe. 
Or ask a sign that Thou hast heard 

And wilt bestow. 

I do not Heek to break my chain 

Gndur4><l so long. 
Or gauge the might of Satan's reign. 

His hold how strong. 

I pralite Thee for the gift received 

Before I ask. 
And with the word. "I have l>elleved.'* 

I take my task. 

I will forget the past abhorred. 

To faith l>e true. 
And only auk. "What wilt Thou. Lord, 

That I shall do?" 


The dangerouN dog In the drawing r«»om lay. 
And snapiMMl at the houMetHea that came in 
hi'* way. 
"I'm a dangerous csnine !" he aald. 

•Beware h<»w you tn>nble a creature of my " 

But hia a|)eerh waa cut abort as ho hap- 
pene<l to apy 
A liumbie bee close to his head ! 




Clouds and I, clouds and I. 

Through the year together ; 
High and low, low and high. 

Fair and cloudy weather. 
Pouting now, smiling now. 

Lips of clouds and my lips ; 
Wrinkled sky, wrinkled brow. 

Eyes are wet and sky drips. 
Singing sky, singing soul. 

Thrushes sing and I sing : 
Shafts of light through the whole 

Heaven and earth uniting. 
Clouds afloat, clouds a-heap. 

Clouds in dances changing; 
Clouds and I, half asleep. 

Through the sweet sky ranging. 
Clouds of red, clouda of gray. 

Bursts of color-glory ; 
Rosy day, weeping day. 

Shifting human story. 
High and low, low and high, 

Fair and stormy weather ; 
Clouds and I. clouds and I, 

Through the year together. 


For the busy worker 
Fleet the minutes run ; 

For the groaning sluggard 
Crawls a languid sun. 

Would you live a 1-o-n-g life? 
Live a lazy one ! 


New England woods are fair of face. 
And warm with tender, homely grace. 
Not vast with tropic mystery. 
Nor scant with arctic poverty. 
But fragrant with familiar balm. 
And happy in a household calm. 

And such, O land of shining star 
Hitched to a cart ! thy poets are. 
So wonted to the common ways 
Of level nights and busy days. 
Yet painting hackneyed toil and ease 
With glories of the Pleiades. 

For Bryant is an aged oak. 

Beloved of Time, and sober folk : 

And Whittier, a hickory, 

The workman's and the children's tree ; 

And Lowell is a maple, decked 

With autumn splendor circumspect. 

Clear Ix>ngfellow's an elm benign. 
With fluent grace in every line ; 
And Holmes, the cheerful birch, intent 
On frankest, whitest merriment: 
While Emerson's high councils rise, 
A pine, communing with the skies. 


I thank Thee for the stars that shine 
Supreme among the heavenly host ; 

But Thou dost lead the golden line. 
And for Thyself I thank Thee most. 

I thank Thee for the loveliness 

That decks the wood, the fleld, the coast ; 
But Thou, of all that Thou dost bless. 

Art fairest, and I praise Thee most. 

I thank Thee for majestic mind. 
The thought that seers and sages boast ; 

But Thou dost lead Thy creatures blind. 
And for Thyself I thank Thee most. 

I praise Thee for man's mastery. 
Each gain another starting-post ; 

But all he finds in finding Thee, 

And for Thyself I praise Thee most. 


Little fairy kerchiefs 
Spread on the grass to dry ; 

Little fairy hammocks 
Swinging in branches high. 

Funny fairy cables 
Stretched through the airy sea ; 

Funny fairy bridges 
Reaching from tree to tree. 

Dainty fairy ladders 
Scaling the garden wall. 

Dainty net to catch them. — 
// fairies ever fall ! 

Busy fairy workman, 
Spider of gorgeous hue, 

Should I steal your glue-pot. 
What would the fairies do? 

[Written in the World War.] 

Great, my country, great in gold. 
Great In riches manifold. 
Great in store of vital grain. 
Great in trade's benign domain. 
Ever great in kindly deed. 
All your wealth for all that need. 

Strong, my country, armed in might. 
Bold In battle for the right. 
Ready for the testing hour. 
Knowing not to faint or cower. 
And your valor all possessed 
For the weaker and oppressed. 

Free, my country, nobly free. 
Gracious land of liberty. 
Free In word and free in thought. 
Freedom's fabric freely wrought. 



Free to bre«k the ehalnt that bind 
Wretched mllllont of mankind. 

True, my country, grandly tme 
To the task that callii for you. 
True In perira dire despite 
To the challenge of the right. 
To the far Ideal plan. 
Ever true to God and man. 


Men can live where flthet are. 
Leave the mountain and the itar, 
l-cave the meadow shining fair. 
And the sunny reach of air. 
Sink Into the cold and dark 
Regions of the eel and shark. 
Grovel In the weeds and slime 
And the wrecks of olden time, 
Lose the thought of warm and bright 
And the very sense of light. 
Grow them flns and horny scales 
And the twist of flshy Ulls, 
And at length forever be 
Fixed and lost within the sea. 

Fling abroad the gospel net ! 
We may save them even yet. 
Pull Its kind, insistent folds 
Tin It captures, till It holds. 
Till It lifts the flsh again 
To the upper world of men. 
Till It places them once more 
In the life they knew before. 

What though wav^s are flerce and high. 

And the storm Is In the sky. 

And our tioat Is far from land. 

And the harsh ropes tear the hand ? 

Fishermen dlsdples we 

As of old In Galilee. 

Worn and weary, cold and wet, 

rheerlly we fling the net. 

Sweeping thnmgh tbr wsves of woe : 

Men, our brothers, are below ! 


Before wee Donald went to bed 
To Towser and to I^iss he mi Id, 
Softly, that no one else might hear. 
Whispering Into each furry ear : 

*frowBer ! I*uss ! This very night 
A little man, dressed all in white. 
And with a moniitroufi great Mg pack 
Tied on his fuuny little back. 
Is coming down the chimney wide. 
I^eavlng his reindeer fawt outside. 
He'll fill my stocking, top and toe. 
Then give a nod. and away he'll go ! 
O daar. what wouldn't I give to see 
^t saint that Alls the Christmas tree! 
All the grown-up folfca have said 

That I mast go right off to bed. 

But Towser! Puss! they'll let you stay 

After they all have gone away ; 

So keep awake, my dears, and try 

The good St. Nicholas to spy. 

Find out for me, dears. If he looks 

Just like his pictures In the books ; 

His eyes, and nose, and mouth, and cheeks. 

The things he does, the words he speaks. 

His slelghbells' jingle down the street. 

The stamping of the reindeers* feet. 

And everything you hear and see. 

Remember It, my dears, for me.'* 

And so onr Donald goes to l>ed. 
With thoughts of Santa In his head. 
While Puss and Towser, by the fire. 
With eager eyes that never tire. 
And curious, attentive ears. 
Are watching till the saint appears. 


I would not ride on Pegasus, 

I fear I am not able : 
Be mine a less ambitious joy, — 

To work atM>ut his stable. 

I'll feed him facts or fancies fine. 
And none shall cut them better ; 

Correctly I will curry him 
In slightest point and letter. 

Ills flowing mane In every line 
KhsU t)e arranged precisely. 

Ills typographic crib and stall 
Shall aye be ordered nicely. 

Perhaps a poet, soaring high, 

A p<»et very kind. 
Some day. for juHt a little flight. 

Will take me on )»ehlnd ! 


The Day of Memories! — Uememherlng what? 
The cannon's roar, the hlMHlng of the shot? 
The weary hospital, the prliton pen? 
The widow's tears, the groans of stalwart 

The bitterness of fratricidal strife? 
The pangs of death, the sharper pangs of life? 
Nay. let us quite forget the whole of these 
Vpon our sacred Day of Memories. 

The Day of Memories! — Remembering what? 
The honored dust In every hallowe<l H|>ot ; 
The honor<*d names of all our heroeti dead ; 
The glorloua land for which they fought and 

Our nation's hopes ; the kindly, common good ; 
The universal bond of brotherhood : 
These we remember gladly, all of these, 
I'pon our Mcrcd Day of Memories. 


The railing anoir bas drawn the beavena near. 
Frieal* ol wblle pnrit;, tbc treea ataad atlU 
Id woodland aUle or on catbedral hill, 
Cbantlng buabed antbeoii tbat tbe tye can 

How do black UmbB and level snow make 

Bacb otber*! tradnga, aa a maa'a dark will 
A WODUD know* to soften, ^et fDlfl) ! 


H« hadn't once called bla committee 

To meet and consider Its work ; 
He bad no desire to do bualness, 

And on);  purpose to sblrk. 
Tbe other committees reported 

Aa bapp; and proud as could be. 
He hadn't a thing to his credit. 

But "I report progreaa," said he. 



leason ot tbe jear 
from bsstr life wltb- 

Tbe beads I 

The thoughtful » 

Too Boon will come the waking up of greed ; 
Too soon will break red passion's torrid dawn. 
In tbis your Sabbatb day. dear world, get 

Of boly peace for (hat abhorrent hour. 


Beneath Its ruditj bun 

The happy bough sai 

Till with a eras" ' " 

proudly bending, 
ower day by day, 
luckless end- 


ce thought ot the matter, 
Nor dreamed of It once In his sleep ; 
e wasn't ashamed of bis conduct. 
He didn't feel worthless or ebeap. 
e looked at the president calmly. 
He made no excuse snd no plea; 
e stood up as bold as b Hon, 
And "1 report progress," said he. 

: tbua tbe tree ot life, with rlcb surprise! 
)f heavy fruitage larger year by year : 
Dp right and firm Its greening tower rises. 
And beats Its welgbtler burdens without 

E\>r see! tbe fruit la winged 1 and llgbt and 

Tbe teeming tree eialts a statelier head ; 
For hardens nobly borne but lift the bearer, 
\nd only empty llTcs fall ever dead. 




My real estate is birds and flowers. 

And sweeps of summer sky, 
And shining holy morning hours. 

And breezes passing by. 

My most unreal estate is dirt. 
With houses piled on top, 

Heckoned in figures bare and curt. 
And smelling of the shop. 

My real estate is never spent. 

Its titles all are clear. 
It pays a wonderful per cent 

By day and month and year. 

It needs no fence of iron or wood. 
No agent must be hired. 

Its price — that It be understood. 
Its tax — to be admired. 

While I am rich in real estate. 

Away with that inert 
Ignoble and degenerate 

Unreal estate of dirt ! 


[Read at a meeting in memory of the Chris- 
tian Bndeavorers who died in the World War, 
at the Buffalo Convention of 1919.] 

High glory his who walks where God alone 

The mystic way has known. 
Who pierces first the mountain solitudes. 
Treads first the echoing vaults of soma vast 

Conquern the rage of undefeated waves. 

Or daringly Intrudes 
Where immemorial arctic stillness broods 

AI>ove Death's timeless throne. 

Praise, praise to him whose gallant mind 

Knows how to find 
New roads of science, now domains of art, 
New avenues of kingly thought. 
New mines whence happy myriads have 

Balm to the senses, courage to the heart. 

Comforts to all mankind. 

But glory, praise, and honor nobler far 

To these whoKe guiding star 
Host in the east, and iKiinted them the way 

To eiirth'H most cruel fray. 
Supreme of horrors, blackest pit of night. 

War of the wrong and right. 

TheHe also with exploring feet have trod 

Alone with (5o<l ; 
These also up to virgin heights have pressed, 

A>4 anient pioneers 

Have niSHterHl fears. 
And learned the wilderness by paths un- 


TheiM' tiH» have n^Ached the pole. 
Have urifiNl their dauntless soul 
Through un Imagined silenc-es of snow 

Where only nightwinds go. 
Friendless and solitary and forgot 
In that unhallowed spot. 
No way that hero feet have trod alone 

Since the dim dawn of time. 

No venturing sublime. 
But these young souls invincibly have known. 

And they have found for us 
Domains all-glorlous, 

Kingdoms of Justice, empires of new good. 
Sweet realms of brotherhood. 
Vea, they have seen and caught 
IJod's very central thought. 
The truth of love supreme in sacrifice. 
And they have paid the price. 
The highest price wherewith the highest good 
is bought. 

Massed In their swarming millions, each has 

In lonely places; 

Each In his own high solitude has talked 
With angel faces; 
Each has a separate conquest, and as each 

His heart uniquely burns. 

As each returns — but ah ! we sing to-dky 

Those who will not come back ; 

We drape our flags with black. 

And waft our mournful tribute far away. 

And yet — are they not here? 

For truth and freedom know not far or nenr« 

The world Is one 

When glorious deeds are done. 

And death Itself is slain 

By those that die a deathless end to gain. 

Not in the sacred sod 

Of battle-harried France alone with God 

Are they asleep, but here, with God alive. 

Their splrltn gladly strive, 

Uphold their proud beloved ones, proudly see 

The world that they made free. 

By every broken chain, 

By every frinnlman, free man to remain. 

By every darkened nation led to light. 

By every baflled memory of wnmg, 

By every new-l>orn permaneni^e of right. 

By every weakness learning to \m^ strong. 

Our fallen heroes rise. 

Come from their graves with happy eyes. 

And Join the welcoming throng. 

We clasp their comrade hands ; 

We catch from them the splendor of their 

mood ; 
Our spirit understands 
What they have tested and have found It 

go<Hl : 
And ours shall \m* with them henceforth to 

For (iod and man, for liberty and right. 




Sooner a Bhovelling dwarf the sea shall flU 
With star-dust hollowed from the eternal 

Than one least letter of Jehovah's will 
The race of man shall blot or nullify. 

A thousand years with Ulm are but a day ; 

His is the patience of eternity ; 
He knows no haste nor shadow of delay, 

Resistless and imperial Peace is He. 

An hour is an eternity with Him, 

Full time to note the humblest widow's 
Full time to note the smallest, hidden, dim 

Iniquity upon the farthest sphere. 

His anger flames and instantly consumes ; 

His justice weighs a sparrow's broken wing ; 
His clear and candid providence illumes 

The gloomy maze of man's imagining. 

O sovereign Pity, infinitely kind ! 

loving and indomitable Will ! 
Perplexed and wander-weary, weak and blind, 

1 reach Thy hand of comfort, and am still. 


White paper, white paper, 

Blush red in your pleasure; 
I'm writing a letter 

To Lucy, my treasure ; 
To bright little Lucy. 

My treasure untold. 
As sweet as the sunlight. 

As precious as gold. 

White paper, white paper. 

Now clothe yourself over 
With scents of the meadow. 

Warm soil, ant) the clover ; 
With odor of violets 

Fresh from the dew. 
For the sweetest of maiden-hands 

Soon will hold you. 

White paper, white paper, 

Hrouk out into smiling. 
With curves of the wild vine 

Her fancy beguiling. 
With sweeps of the swallow. 

With tricks of the tree. 
For the merriest of maidens 

You're going to see. 

White paper, white paper, 

<«et eyes for the seeing 
Of Lucy, this dear little. 

Bright little being! 
But If you are after 

The merriest bliss 
Get lips, my white paper, 

And ask for a kiss ! 


Yes, Peter was shaggy, his garments were 
He was rough in his fisherman ways, 
His voice was uncultured, and clumsy, and 
But the voice that one always obeys. 

There was many a gentleman passing me by. 

Yet none was so gentle as he ; 
They were soft to the car, they were fine to 

But Peter 's the prince for me ! 

Yet Peter was poor, and empty his purse ; 

Three years he was out of his trade ; 
And poverty 's surely a terrible curse. 

So how was he going to aid? 

Ah, many a rich man has tossed me his gold, 
A pittance flung out to a slave; 

But not all the purses in Rome could hold 
The gift that the fisherman gave ! 

Why, look at me, stranger, alert as a hound ; 

And see me, how high I can leap ; 
And think of those thirty long years on the 

A tortured and pitiful heap ! 

Why, Peter, he gave me the best that he had, 
And he gave in a brotherly way. 

And well you may guess I am wondrouslj 
That he hadn't a penny that day ! 


With a pickaxe strong and rude, 
I will mine for solitude. 

Rock as tough as any sin, 
I will sink a shaft therein, 

Down below the steady beat 
Of the horses' iron feet. 

Far below the street-car bell. 
Factory whistle, newsboys' yell ; 

Where the clatter of the dray 
I^ng ago dissolved away ; 

Where the faintest whir and hum 
Of the city never come. 

Deep, ah ! deep the shaft shall sink 
Where the tortured brain may think. 

Nevermore compelled to fear 
Pert frustrations of the ear. 

Far my eager pick shall press 
Galleries of quietness, 



Veins of silence to explore. 
Rich in many a precious ore. 

Ab, the thoughts I shall reflne 
From the caverns of that mine! 

Yet. alas : I know full well 
In my subterranean cell 

I shall hardly have the time 
To achieve a single rhyme 

Till a rush, a roar, a din 
On that calm will clatter in. 

It will be the strain and stress 
Of the new Direct Express. 

By the antipodean way. 
From New York to Mandalay ! 


Its leaves are bright with the cannon-shine. 
Its shadow is dark with trembling fears, 

Its roots reach down to the deadly mine, 
It is watereil with widows* tears. 

Its blood-re<I petals are beating lives, 
Anguish-dewi'd where the blossom parts; 

Its thorns are the thrusts of angry knives 
Death-deep into human hearts. 

How fair it gleams in the lying light. 

In the flush of the glittering sun how fair! 
But tarry nut by the gallant sight. 

For the breath of the tomb is there. 


Once two little gentlemen, very polite, 
Stepped up to a gate that was narrow— quite. 
The one (who was very well-bred and thin) 
Was plainly Intending to pass within. 
The other (remarkably bland and stout) 
Was Just as sun'ly resolv«Hl to pass out. 
Now what could the two little gentl*>men do 
But say with a bow, "After you I" "After 



And there tbey tiUnn} iHiwing, with courteous 

Their hats in their hands, for a marvellous 

while : 
For the thin little man was very wi-II-bntl, 
And thf Mtmit ninn had not a rude hair In 

his head. 
But there rbanced that way a philosopher 


Who sagfly efff^ted a compromise : 
That each In turn should go through the last ; 
Thus might th*> troublfsome gate be passetl. 
Ho flrst the courtfH>UM gentleman thin. 
With grratest reluctance passed within. 

And then the well-mannered gentleman stout. 
With polished obeisance made his way out. 
But sadly turned and went back that he 
Might share in the breach of courtesy ! 
Then the thin little man stepped out once 

Contentedly where he was before. 
And thus having settled the difficult case. 
Each walked away with a Jubilant face. 


"Were not the ten cleansed? but where are 
the nine?"— Lnke 17 : 17. 

I meant to go back, but well you may guess 
I was tilled with amazement I cannot express. 
To think that after those horrible years. 
That passion of loathing and passion of fears. 
By sores unendurable eaten, deflled. 
My flesh was as smooth as the flesh of a 

child ! 
I was drunken with Joy, I was craty with 

I scarcely could walk and I scarcely could see 
For the dazzle of sunshine where all had been 

black ; 
But I meant to go back, O I meant to go 


I had thought to return, when my people 

came out. 
There wer*> tears of rejoicing, and laughter, 

and shout ; 
They embraced me, — for years I had not 

known a kiss : 
Ah, the pressure of lips is an exquisite bliss ! 
They crowded around me, tbey filled the 

whole place. 
They looked at my feet and my hands and 

my face : 
My children were there, my glorious wife. 
And all th** forgotten allurements of life. 
My cup was so full I se4>med nothing to lack ; 
Hut I meant to go back, O I meant to go 


I had started — yes, Luke. I had started to find 
The lli'aler so mighty, so tender and kind; 
But work pn>ssed u|>on me : my business, you 

For all of those years I was force<l to let go : 
I had tools to collect. I had onlers to get. 
I found my poor family burden<Ml with debt. 
My time was all taken with IalM>r and care. 
The days went more swiftly than I was aware 
With the practical prol>iems I had to attack ; 
But I meant to go t>ack. O I meant to go 


I never supposed He would wait my return — 
Just one of the ten. — and would linger, and 



As you tell me He did ; why, Luke, had I 

There is no one on earth I would sooner 
have sought; 

Vd have shown Ulm my body, all perfect and 
strong ; 

I'd have thanked Ulm and praised Him be- 
fore the great throng ; 

rd have followed Him gladly forever and aye. 

Had I thought that He minded my staying 
away, — 

He so great, I so little and paltry ! — alack. 

Had I only gone back ! had I only gone back ! 


Down by the swamp in the alder tangle, 
Brisk little dandy in raiment gay, 

Maker of ditties that daintily Jangle, 
Maryland yellowthroat whistles all day. 

Smartly he pecks at the willows and birches, 

Smartly he sings at a silvery pitch 
Rollicking ballads unfitted for churches, 
"Witchery, ioitcherj/, witchery, icitchl" 

Witchery truly, you dear little flfer, 
Watching us quaintly with curious eye ; 

Witchery more than a sage could decipher 
Under your carolling. Jauntily spry. 

Black-masked face uncannily hidden. 
Breast aglimmer with golden bloom. 

Where is the mystical steed you have ridden. 
Where is your sly little witch's broom? 

Witchery, witchery all around you. 
Summer magic in blossom and tree. 

Summer spells in the rhythms that bound you, 
Shrill of the cricket and boom of the bee. 

Witchery most of all in your singing, 
Poet or vagabond, no one knows which, 

Over the meadows your canticle ringing, 
'Witchery, tcitchery, teitchery, tcitchi" 



Critics say you're getting rich — 
Big collections and all sich ; 
Send 'em — where it smells of pitch, 
Billy Sunday. 

Is a hundred cents or so 
For each creature saved from woe 
Overcharge? I'd like to know, 
Billy Sunday. 

Critics say your words are coarse. 
Prom a non -collegiate source ; 
But they never doubt their force, 
Billy Sunday. 

Critics say your mode is rough. 
And your methods simply tough ; 
But the devil 's smooth enough, 
Billy Sunday. 

Critics hate your notions most, — 
Devil, hell, and Holy Ghost ; 
But you're saving men, a host, 
BUly Sunday. 

And the thousands that you win 
From the lowest depths of sin 
Stick to you through thick and thin, 
Billy Sunday. 


If you, Free Verse, exult in broken chains, 
In flinging far the fetters of the past, 
The metric tionds that held your fancy fast 
And cabined you from bold adventurous gains. 
Think not, while passion pulses in your veins. 
You, only, venture forth into the vast. 
You, only, hear the challenge of the blast. 
And dare the beckoning of distant mains. 
Within the Sonnet's narrow bound austere 
Is room for life and death, for love and 
The mightiest souls have found full margin 
For wit, for wisdom, and for keen debate. 
Why, Shakespeare, ranging through the hu- 
man sphere. 
Moored bis rare spoil within my friendly 


Oh, would I were little, to dance with the 
That flittingly, trippingly frolic so gay ; 
We'd roll down the roofs and we'd race 
through the eaves. 
And over the village we'd scamper away ; 
Yes, over the village we'd rustle away. 

And would I were bigger, to dance with the 

That bend to each other, so stately and 
fine ; 
I'd swing on their boughs with the rollick- 
ing breeze, 

And oh, for a partner the birch should be 
mine ; 

The dainty and delicate birch should be 

But stay ! I believe I'll remain as I am. 
Just not very little and not very tall ; 

For now I can frolic with Susie and Sam, 
And that is far better, far better than all ; 
Far better than house-tops and tree-tops 
and all ! 




Tree-lover, blrd-Iover, lover of marsh and aea. 
Holding bis heart to the meadow land, bar- 
ing hl8 80ul to the sun. 
lie loved the world for man, and man the 
world for Thee, 

Creator. O beautiful One ! 

In flowing, out-flowing, over the tide's unrest 
Brooded his spirit on level wings, brooded, 
nor sanlc nor rose. — 
Unmoved by passion's wave, nor tossed on its 
frothy crest. 

Nor whelmed in its furrowed woes. 

8ea-swinging. cloud-sailing, lilt of the wren 
and leaf. 
Cirowing of grace in the morning sky, storm 
and the trees at strife, — 
He wove all sights and sounds and made him 
a net for grief. 

And Joy, and the wings of a life. 

Clearsighted, warm-hearted, spirit in poise, 
in tune. 
So was his life with t)eauty filled ; — touch, 
and a song overflowed. 
Alas, the summer bard, he died with his life 
at .lune ; 

He died at the half of an ode! 


God of the Book ! Its Way, its Truth, its Life ! 
The Way that leads through all its fruited 

realm ; 
The Truth irrndiant from every page : 
The Life that holds it young for ev«>rmore ! 
I thank Thee that it was not from the skies 
Through riven clouds these heavenly writings 

But from the trembling Angers of Thy men. 
On paper crumpled with humanity ! 
Thy Book, the meeting-place of God and men ! 
Our Book, the meetlnK-place of men and <tod ! 
For Abram'M faith and Abram's faithlesN fear. 
For Jacob's vision and his trickery. 
For Ilavid'M oiiett and David's deadly sin. 
EliJah'H courage and bis c<»wardice, 
Peter conftsslng and denying too. 
And Paul the martyr |MTK«TUtlng Christ — 
1 thank The** for the nn-ord of it all. 
The iH'Kt in miin. th<> rrav«>n womt in man. 
Because through all our blest Itedeemer 

Lifting and loving sinnerM to Hlmiwlf ! 
I thank Th«H*, wondrous Author, for the 


Of pnrudl**t'. the glorloiiM cliKjurnce, 
Th«* prnpbtM-lrH hihI imrnMcn niitl psalms. 
The s{)l«'ndt(! mardi of tiiTo(>H and tru*' kings. 
For kindly proverbs and for winged prayers. 

The Bible's amplitude and loveliness ; 
But more for Him, oh, endless more for Him, 
Thy Son, who binds these volumes to one Book ; 
Who walks through all its chapters, hinted 

And there disclosed ; whose voice is heard afar 
In Horeb's thunder, and divinely near 
Upon the Horns of Ilattin ; thanks for Him 
Whose purpose wrote the Book ere Mosen 

Whose guidance drew the Book through hun- 

Of groping ages to the Easter dawn : 
Whose presence in the Book re-hallows it 
Through His unfolding years for evermore. 
It mirrors us that it may mirror Him 
Beside us. It repeats our waverings 
That it may show His constancy. It lives 
Because He lives, and longs to live in us. 
Oh, highest praise to God for what He is ! 
Oh, praise to God for what we may become ! 


The State of country byways, quaintly lined 
With bush and brake and fragrances thick- 
set ; 
The State of ancient villages reflned : 

Above their streets the arching elms have 
For many generations, till they seem 
The corridors of some long-brooding dream. 

Grim granite elbows through the shallow soil. 
The fields are fenced with gray and massive 
stone ; 
The little farms will answer sturdy toil 

And careful thought, but answer those 
alone ; 
No region this of generous-giving leas. 
Of ready harvesting and languid ease. 

Yet many berries glimmer in the wood. 

The wild grape hangs in many a fruited 
The gnarlM apple orchards l»end with food. 
The waysides gleam with many a splendid 
The hills are delicate with lauri'l blooms. 
And rbodmli-ndron llgbtH th** forest gI<M>ms. 

This land Is loved by oooan : far and d«'ep 
The l'>ng luiyH rt>a«'h among the sloping 
And tenderly thi» shlnintr wators creep 

Whrr«' waiting inarhh a silfnt wdrom** 
And slow brown currrnts in the shadows run. 
And thick raukinl H4ilg«>H Klitt«>r In the Hun. 

How stranet'ly to this r<>alni of anci«>nt [>«*ac«* 
Thf f«<'tory folk, swart faces, foreign 
I tongue. 



Caught In their clattering tasks that never 
The curse of Cain, ao old, yet always young. 
Here, to these groping, restless, fiery men, 
Spirit of Roger Williams, come again ! 


"Statistics prove'* so many things : 
The size of towns, the height of kings. 
The age of children in the schools, 
The skull development of fools. 
The salaries that parsons get. 
The number of abodes to let, 
The wealth of lucky millionaires, 
The price of hens and mining shares — 
All things below and things above. 
It seems to me, ••statistics prove." 

But no ! statistics never yet 
Appraised a single violet. 
Measured the glances of an eye, 
Or probed the sorrow of a sigh. 
Statistics never caught the gleam 
That dances on a meadow stream. 
Or weighed the anthem of a bird 
In forest aisles devoutly heard. 
Statistics never proved a soul. 
In high or low, in part or whole, 
Sin, beauty, passion, honor, love — 
How much statistics cannot prove ! 


If every man would do the things the ••other 
man" should do. 

Attack the hoodlum, catch the thief, and 
watch the rascal crew. 

We'd have a perfect city, and a perfect coun- 
try, too, 

A sober land, an honest land, where men are 
good and true; 

There'd be no more misgovemment nor graft 
nor mobs to rue. 

If every man would do the things the ••other 
man" should do. 

If we forgot the talents by the ••other man" 

And never thought to envy him the feathers 

of his nest. 
And only thought to grasp from him this 

chance to do the best. 
To dare the deed, and meet the need and 

stand the fiercer test. 
We'd have a model country, north, south, 

and east and west. 
If we forgot the talents by the ••other man" 


If every man would think himself to be the 
••other man," 

Become his own reformer on a self-respecting 

And calmly, boldly, ^t himself to do the 

thing he can. 
Nor wait to find some other chap to push into 

the van. 
The world's entire iniquity we'd put beneath 

the ban. 
If every man would think himself to be the 

••other man." 


The world is a welter of blistering sorrow, 

All is an anguish of infinite pain. 
Where are the once happy hopes of to-morrow ? 

Under the festering heaps of the slain. 
Where are the songs of the Bethlehem chorus? 

Mocked in the battle, defeated and dumb. 
Yet is one hope, and one promise, before us : 

Even so, even so. Comforter, come ! 

Come, thongh the nations are reeling and 
falling ; 

Come, though the sages are silent in dread ; 
Come, though the mothers are sobbing and 

Over the graves of the beautiful dead. 
Deeper and darker our limitless error. 

Louder the crash of the hurrying drum ; 
Wilder the maddening rush of our terror, 

Even so, even so. Counsellor, come ! 

Come, while the impious rage and deny Thee ; 

Come at the height of their arrogant pride ; 
Come, while the ravening peoples defy Thee; 

Come in Thy power and toss them aside. 
Now, with Thine enemies reeking and gory, 

Counting Thy saints as the slime and the 
scum ; 
Now, with the fiends at the top of their glory, 

Even so, even so. Conqueror, come ! 

Come at the climax of horror and wailing. 

Never so needed and never so sought. 
Are not the prayers of Thy people prevailing? 

Has not iniquity perfectly wrought? 
Now. as the .ludases kiss and betray Thee, 

Now, as their evil has made up the sum. 
Now, as Thy people believingly pray Thee, 

Even so, even so. Lord Jesus, come ! 


Some day In hlg^eat heaven, made fair and 

Before your happy sight, 
I shall become, dear love, a fitting mate 

For your so pure estate. 

Would It were now ! but since that cannot be, 

I beg you look on me 
With forward vision ; see me now, I pray. 

As I shall be that day. 



With JubilBQce welcome the dawp. 
Bpi-ond It the cuurteciui nipidows 

Makr offrrlDRn all tbr da; lone. 
Tbr Roldpn grera of the ■UDllgbl. 

Tbe elm-treeii ladru with mag. 

Ab, lOTfly ibc Krnt of encbantment ! 

And jret. bad t maflcal might, 
I'd chanjte tbe whole for an alley, 

A ({loumy aod pitiful »lght, 
ir ddI; thrauah wret<-be<leai window! 

(() dream of Imperial wraith!) 
t could luok on (hat pitiful alley 

With the cuniiuerlDg efei at b«a1tb ! 


t tbougb May 

^01O^lll gay 

What t bough the mow 
In Mlenl wue 
alleot wood* la cllnglngT 
My Houl witb June 





- Pb. lOi: 11-tS. 

Of all things far, I love the best 
The distance from the east to west ; 
For by that space, and all within, 
God's mercy parts me from my sin. 

And best I love, of all things high, 
The space between the earth and sky ; 
For by that height beyond all ken 
God's love exceeds the love of men. 

I love, of deep things undefiled, 
A father's pity for his child ; 
For by that depth so far, so clear, 
God pities all that faint and fear. 

Father, Father, endless kind, 

1 thank Thee for my human mind. 
But chief of all my praise shall be 
That mind cannot encompass Thee! 


I'm glad for every shining star. 
The gleams of glittering skies. 

And that their brightest sparkles are 
In Jenny's eyes. 

I'm glad for summer's drowsy hum, 
Dear zephyrs frdm the squth. 

And that their sweetest breathings come 
From Jenny's mouth. 

I'm glad for beauty's towers tall, 

For poetry and art. 
And that the centre of it all 

Is Jenny's heart. 


Edward wears a coat of blue, 

Not a thread that isn't new ; 

Not a wrinkle, not a tear. 

Not the smallest stain is there ; 

How the dandy buttons shine 

On that garment superfine, 

And how Edward, through and through, 

FceU the coat supremely new ! 

Billy wears a coat of black, 
Rather flabby in the back. 
Rather shiny on the sleeve. 
And — a grease-spot, I believe. 
It Is mended, cleaned, and pressed, 
And must answer for his best. 
Yet, for all his folks can do, 
Billy knotcB it isn't new ! 

Here, my lassie and my lad, 
Is a New Year to be had. 
Shall it be a year of black. 

Shiny sleeve and wrinkled back. 
Here a grim, persistent stain, 
There a spot that will remain. 
Shabby places half worn through. 
Mended up and made to do? 

Nay, old Time ! with kindly heart 
Grant us all a good, fresh start ; 
Not a grief to carry on 
From the twelvemonth that is gone ; 
Not a hatred, shame, or fear 
That can soil the coming year ! 
Thus alone, for rce and you. 
Is the New Year truly new. 


When we learn to write. 

Don't you see, don't you see? 

Then I'll write to Dolly 
And she'll write to me. 

When we learn the map, 

Don't you know, don't you know? 
Then Dolly and I 

On our travels will go. 

WTien we learn to count, 

Don't you see. don't you see? 

Then we'll spend my dollar, 
Half for her, half for me. 

When we learn to read. 

Don't you know, don't you know? 
Then Dolly and I 

To young ladies will grow ! 


The children built a barrier of sand 
Along the shore, a breastwork very high 
And very strong, that hid the darkening sea. 
And safely there they played upon the beach 
A medley of bright fancies, one a king. 
And one an actress trailing seaweed robes. 
And others merchants bargaining for stones 
Worn smooth and shining, others men of war 
With tinny drums and driftwood cannon bold ; 
Till sudden round their breastwork stole the 

And over it the spray beat suddenly. 
And all the children in a merry rush 
Uetreate<l shrieking to the upper land. 
And watched their mighty barrier crumble 


So we. Time's bearded children, weirdly bent 
And strangely wrinkled to our bitter souls. 
Yet children irresponsible and crude, — 
How In the face of waters tossed and wild. 
Of angry billows reaching to the void, 
We build our brittle barrier of sand, 
Of high philosophy and cool disdain ; 



And there behind It witlensly secure 

We play our little parody of life, 

Our governing, our trading, our parade 

Of fashion and of armies ; till the sea. 

The waiting sea, the crawling, quivering sea. 

Reaches the crafty network of its tide 

Through hidden runnels, creeps along the 

And lays Its watery meshes silently. 
And cuts us foolish prancers from the shore. 
Then curve its surges hissingly and swift 
As sweeping scythes, and all are overwhelmed. 
Kings, warriors, and traders, and fair dames. 
Tumbled, a shrieking, cursing, praying mass. 
Into the welter blackness of the sea. 

Voices there are that call us from the shore. 
The upper shore. Imploringly they call : 
But we, behind our barrier of sand. 
Beating our drums and clinking at our trades, 
And swishing silk, and shouting out our 

Hear only our own babble : or, if heard. 
The voices are flung back in mockery : 
**I>o you not see the breastwork we have 

built r* 

O bearded children playing on the beach. 
If you would know the sea, as know you must. 
There is a pier, and there a waiting ship. 
The waiting ship to meet the waiting sea ! 
The voices call you from the upper land. 
"I^ave your weak barrier, your witless play ; 
The tide is turning, and the vessel waits." 

••The tide? What tide?" we answer scorn- 

**Do //oil not fti'v the breast trurk tec hare 


Good night, my dear ones. May (tod's n'st. 

In ample store. 
Fill every pure and loving breast 

For evermore. 

Good night, my friends of pur|K>Mt' true. 

So loyal wis«>. 
May bIesKi><liit>MH ciH-oropnsH yuu 

From ttendliig skies. 

Good night, my villaue. and giMMl ni):lit 

M> UMtlvc land. 
Be yours tb«> safoty and th«* inlKht 

Of GikI's right hand. 

Good night, great world ! and world on world 

Of ranging star. 
God's love. I know, is far outfurhnl. 

Where'er you are. 

Good night, my task : and wait for me 

Till morning tide 
Bball bring me. radiant and fn^i*. 

Calm to your side. 

Good night. Lord Jesus ! As I tread 

Sleep's mystic way. 
By Thy firm hand I shall be led 

To gates of day. 

Good night ! ah, very good the night — 

How sweet and fair! 
And good shall be the dawning light. 

Or here or there. 


It Isn't the talk that will count, boys. 

But the doing that springs from the talk. 

To what will your walking amount, boya. 
With no goal at the end of your walk T 

What's the use of a ladder set up. boys. 
With the end resting only on air? 

What's the use of a nobly filled cup, boys, 
If no one to drink it is there? 

\Miat*s the use of a capital plan, boys. 

That never Is more than a scheme? 
He makes a poor, scatter-brained man, boyi» 

That begins in his boyhood to dream. 

No ; talk on and plan as you will, boys. 
But remember. If you would succeed. 

It isn't the talk that shows skill, boys. 
But the end bf the talking. — the deed ! 


(••Hitting the sawdust trail" is Billy Sun- 
day's expression for coming forward as con- 
verts in his great evangelistic meetings.] 

With hope in our hearts and with light in 
our eyes. 
We are hitting the sawdust trail. 
With our souls tlrnily set on the everlasting 
We are hitting the sawdust trail. 
We have said good-by to the sorrow and the 

To the hard, broad way that so long we've 

travelhsl in ; 
And the true, dear Joy we are setting out to 
As we're hitting the sawdust trail. 

'Mid the snt'tTs c»f our foes and the prayers 
of our friends 
We are hitting the sawdust trail. 
Where the hiss of the world with the song of 
heaven lilends 
We are hitting the sawdust trail. 
I^t them laugh, let them miH'k. In their silly. 

he«Klless glee. 
Our eternity 's at stake, and for trifles what 

en re we? 
From the doom of death to In* ransome<Y. to 
be fr«*e. 
We are hitting the sawdust trail. 



We have seen enough of the devil and his 
So we're hitting the sawdust trail. 
We have lived enough of the wicked, weary 
So we're hitting the sawdust trail. 
O the glad release from the wretched and the 

vile I 
O the glow of hope in the happy, crowded 

aisle ! 
O the sweet home Joys and the Saviour's lov- 
ing smile, 
As we're hitting the sawdust trail ! 


The workman la worthy of his meat. — 
MaU, 10:19, 

I have meat to eat that ye know not of. — 

All nature, and the soul of the unseen. 
Hands of old heroes reached from out the 

Spirits of life in this full-glorious day, 
The sky, the earth, the ocean gratulant. 
These bring the worker's table, and set forth 
liigh nutriment upon it. How he fares. 
Angels to wait upon him, and the robe 
Of all enrichment wrapping him about ! 
Beside a sewer in a clanging street 
The banquet may be set, or in a mine 
Beneath a black and crumbling mile of rock. 
Or 'mid the stubble of a harvest field 
Vnder a blistering sun, or in the calm 
Of some great library, or on the sea 
Amid the crashing terror of the storm. 
None see it but the worker ; none but he 
Can taste the wondrous viands ; he alone 
Is conscious of the splendid mlnistrants. 
But he, — ah ! well he knows it ; revels there 
In Joys a king would sell his realm to bay. 
In pride and hope and firm accomplishment. 
Many have sat before him at that board 
And many will come after, royal men. 
The head and front of godlike humankind. 
And he is one among them ! As he feasts 
At that illustrious table, how inane, 
How petty. Imbecile, and profitless 
Are other meats, though borne in soft, white 

Or proffered by the hands of half the world ! 

A Boating Song. 

Bow, row, row, row, 
JoNBie and 1 are rowing. 

Over the sky, and over the clouds, 
And over the tree-tops going. 

Glide, glide, glide, glide, 

Shadow and sunshine sifting, - 

Into the blue, and into the dark. 
And into the golden drifting. 

Swift, swift, swift, swift. 
Swift flow the lilies by us; 

Sleepy-head turtles from low-lying log 
Lazily blink and eye us. 

Drift, drift, drift, drift, 

Broad is the stream and steady. 
Narrowing now tu a frolicsome flow 

With many a dimpling eddy. 

Slow, slow, slow, slow, 

Josie and I together. 
Josie is fair as a lily bud 

And sweet as the summer weather. 

Row, row, row, row, 

Josie and I are rowing ; 
Over the sky and over the sun 

And out of the world we are going. 


Has any one seen my soul? 

It was lost In the dark one night. 

It was very fair and white. 

And it slipped Just out of control 

And was gone with a laugh and a shriek out 

of my sight. 
On the shore where the black waves roll. 
And the black air tumbles in and drowns the 

light ; 
It was there it was lost one night ; 
Has any one seen my soul? 

'Twas a pure, white soul till then. 

But I know not what happened there. 

It was innocent and fair 

And unused to the ways of men. 

And the ways of men were alluring, debonair. 

They called me, called me again and again. 

With a voice that poisoned prudence and 

thought and care ; 
And I know not what happened there ; 
'Twas a pure, white soul, till then. 

I am lonely and afraid. 

Without my soul it is terribly sad and lone ; 

For they that were my own. 

So near and dear to the fair, white maid. 

Distant, oh, sorrowful distant and drear have 

.Tust when I grope for aid 
And hunger for comfort and out into mockery 

moan ; 
Without my soul I am so alone. 
So lonely and afrsid. 

I would not ask for much. 
So little would comfort me. 
Just a crumb of sympathy. 
Only a look or a touch 

Where the others press to revile or In horror 




But love is not for Huch — 

For 8ucb as they made me down by that 

l>lack. black sea, 
Though so little would comfort me. 
And I dare not hope for much. 

But oh. my soul, my soul ! 

It is that I want the most. 

For I walk like a vacant ghost. 

And the Hky is an emptied bowl. 

And I wander In vain on the ebon, desolate 

On the shore where the black waves roll. 
And call me, and Jibe, and chatter a horrible 

Oh, it's that I want the most : 
Has any one seen my soul? 


Thoush grafters may Hteal at the top of their 
And pocket a million a day ; 
Though Hharp«>rs may promise their thirty per 
And slip with the lK>oty away ; 
Though IkmhIIi* nnd cheat and crafty deceit 

Are roiiHtantly draggiHl to the light. 
Though cyulcs may hlHK, you may bank upon 
thi.H : 
The heart of the i>eople is right. 

The heart <»f the peopli* is loyal to tnith. 

Though their min<lM niuy lie caught with a lie. 
Tin' hfjirt of ih«« p«'ople is merry \n yo\ith 

\VhiI»» the agcH go tottering l»y. 
The croakers may mourn and th«' sages may 
lUit th«* people ar«> sunny and bright : 
The sc«>|»tlcs may doubt aud tli4' Jchters may 


Itut tli*> heart of thf p«M>ple Is ri^ht. 

You nuiy pil*' up your powder by thousands 
of tons. 

Your tlMrat"'nlng«* never may c»'ase. 
Yoti niav iuagnlfy armlet and navies and guns. 

It'll th«' jwople are ever for pea<*e. 
You may find them awhile with the glitter 
anil k'uile 

of thi> ramp an<l the <lrill and the light. 
Hut n** cln-li's the Mun all piHiplfH are one. 

And the heart of the |HM>pl*' |4 right. 

You may brandish the lure of insatiate grewl. 

You ni:i\ mask thi* untrenerous wrong. 
And pi-rbiips for a nionu'Ut th** sin luay sucre«H]. 

lint it will not sucomhI very long. 
ThiHich ri« hed may tiaunt and luxury vaunt 

Its Diaddfning whirl of delight. 
The p*Mipi<> are bent on a simple content. 

And tbi* heart of the |>et>ple is right. 

There are leaders that lead to the timoroaa 
And look to the days that are irone ; 
But the people have never a cowardly fear. 

And the people move steadily on. 
While the scbolara debate and the theorists 
They are scaling a loftier height : 
And the future, they know, has a balm for 
all woe. 
And the heart of the people is right. 

So whenever the parties arc muddled and 

And l>os8es are brutal and base. 
And thinkers that write and prophets that 

Are all in a pitiful case, 
lA>ok cheerily then to the masses of men 

And see with their sensible sight. 
Contidingly trust in the good common dust; 

For the heart of the people is right. 


I will have a new birthday to-day. 

A birth from the dark to the light. 
From the sad to the Jubilant way. 

From weakness to masterful might. 

What matters the time I was lM>mT 

New birth I now ran attain : 
New life in this wakening mom. 

New hope, new heart, and new brain ! 

<io(Mi-by to the outworn fears. 

ttiMMl-by to the ancient strife. 
Farewell to the doubts of hesitant years 

And the failure of olden life. 

I am done, this day I am done 
With the f»>lly of cherished sin. 

1 will stand upright. I will face the sun. 
And tli«> aiig«*ls may look within ! 

I For I <Io not stand alone. 

I With tbie. o <'reator t'hrist. 

1 seize till* crown and 1 mount the throne. 
Aud assume the wealth unpriced. 

I With tb«e. O i^ird of all goiHl ! 
, With thee. In!Hpir«>r i»f cImht ! 

^ I dare ami I grasp all that man ever c«»uld. 
Aud i enter my pristine year. 

New birth. Imperial Mrth. 

New kingMlilp of iMHiy and time. 
A fresh made im>u| for a fresh made earth. 

And Joy in its blosnoming prime ! 

Irr«'Vo<"ably I go 

Forth, forth on the o|M>ning way. 
To achieve, to enjoy, to disci>ver. to grow. 
j For I take a new tdrthday— to-day ! 



I am myaelt— iKior, foollah, weak— 

Borne I accoat In shop op iHrwt, 

Plui other meo to whom I apeak. 

And aome In blessed books 1 meet. 

And watcb tb«Ir waya aad be«d tbelr talk. 

each Is BD Intreaeot fui- uii^,— 

Some are alive with whom I trend. 

My life Is all a happy sum ; 

And aome are those that men call dead : 

ril odd aa long as llgurea tome! 


A buBb la In the sblnlDg aky. 

Krom qiilPt fanea- where men have trod 

TbruiiKli centurlea of lioly wara. 

O Cod on high. 

Our Fathera God, 

Fair Nalure folda ber haadi. 

Tbelr children alog Tby pralae. 

A bymn I9 In the beart of man. 

And here In my poor life, almve 

lIlRh pralsea Jubilant ond free. 

- The dally turmoil barab ond grim. 

God of love, 

Thy creaturea worship Thee, 

Hear Thou my Sunday hymn. 




Home (lay I'll slDg. with golttpn wordii, 

A l(»v(* 90I1K to my wlfo. 
SuriMiKMloff violins and birdti, 

A iMinff of lov«* and life. 

The Honjc shall Mprlng from de<'|>eNt earth. 

And leap to luftlest sky. 
All pralM' (if iN'auty and of worth 

Shall fling their bannem high. 

The Hong shall touch the tender h^art 

.\nd thrill the ardent mind. 
All charms of nature and of art 

IMlclously combined. 

Hut since I cannot sing you now 

That worthy song of bliss. 
lH*ar wife! I print upon your lirow 

This dumb, adoring klM ! 

T«> GKNKItAL Il<K>Tn. 

On lliM ViHit to Aiiif'rira. 

The generals of lenwr breed 

Through scenes of death and desolatii»n 

And human woe and hiimun ne«'d 

Have w*>n their criniMoii e|f\atiou ; 

Hut you. our General of Peaci', 

Have gaine<l your dlKiilty MUi>ernal 

By captives' raniMfm an*l release. 

And souls re<l**eni*il from death eternal. 

The other generals throiigti MimhJ 

Have wad«nl to thi-ir ilreaMfiil »;l«>r>. 

Wbut fruitage ruineil In th«- l>ud ! 

Wtiat •Mil nf .vifiith M fair otieulng story ! 

Hut yuUfM the h.ippy Hkill to rloM> 

TYie tKiiiitiiln iif luaii uiiil <ia^f> aiol nation ; 

The only IiI<mh1 >iiur Itann'T knoi^*. 

The HIimmI ttiat Won a w«>rld's •»alvatii>n 

O wielfl*T of n mighty sHonl 

That pii-if «•% hi artM with thrusts of Memilng, 

The nvkiinl of <«iili-on aii<l the I.oni. 

To hi):h rrii«aiii-4 your nriii<« niMri-tiolng. 

I.on;: inav It war with Iniinan guilt ; 

.^n«l Hh«Mi at la«t to iH-ath \ou yield It. 

May •onie one w«>rthy of its hilt 

In God's name S4ise tlie itword and wield it ! 


* Th*- |ibilo^ophloal ad^orot** «>f the thor- 
f»ufib Uiaatltntloii ••( fiH^l | 

llrforr thf IIU. thi- pain^ aiol pIlU 

Of luillgi-ntlon t:et >«-r. 
ot»M-r\«- a t>ir that ^i^*- anil mit. 

Tb*- f.tniou* lli>ra<*t ri«t(h«-r 

ThfMigh deaf and blind or daft of mind 
or carried on a stretcher. 

You're good as new if you but chew 
The way of Horace Fletcher. 

Though people guy. and work heaped high 

May hurry and may fret yer. 
Just make no haste, but chew and taste 

Your food with Horace Fletcher. 

When meat goes up. serenely sup 
On three liaked beans, and wet yer 

CEsophagus with water, plus 
A health to Horace Fletcher ! 

When stocks go down and all the town 

Is worried, you may net yer 
Gold to the giMNl by docking food 

With canny Horace Fletcher. 

And if you'd like to lift and strike 

In athlete wise. I'll l>et yer 
No sophomore could lay It o'er 

The gray-haired lloraiv Fletcher. 

Keverse for him the fable grim — 

Kind History will let yer— 
And hall the new good Wandering Chew, 

Our brother. Horace Fletcher ! 


Had Lincoln lived. 
How would his hand, so gentle yet so stntng. 
Have close<l the gaping wounds of ancient 

wrong ; 
How would his merry jests, the way he smil«Nl. 
Our ^und••re4l hearts to unii>n havi* iH'guiled: 
How would the South from his Just rule have 

|i-arn« <1 
That eneniieH to neighbors may he turneil. 
And how ttie North. \%lth his sau'soious art. 
lla\e learn«*4l the |H»u-i>r of a tni^^ting heart : 
What follies had UfU spared us. and what 

What mhhIs of ItitternesN that still remain. 
Had LIuroln livi^l ! 

With Lincoln dead. 
Ten million nifn In ^Ml•l«tltute for <»ne 
Mu<«t do the n«iti|«' lb-tils h«' uouM haNe dune: 
Muft lift till fr«>eilman ultti d^ternhiK' care. 
Niii bou^e hiiii in a taNtl** of tiie air; 
Mu»t join the North an«l .South In e\«-ry gi»od« 
TuoKil in • o «»|)*«ratiuK l>rothei ho«Ml : 
Muf>t t>anii«h enniit\ with htN goinl th**er. 
And Mla> with Mni»hine ev«*r> rit»ing fi*ar: 
like hini to ilarc. and truHt. and Kaerlllie. 
T«-n million !• *ii«*r LincoiUH muitt arise. 

With Lincoln d*-ad. 

Tin: GOAL 

There 1^ on«- thing nobly worth while. 

Though the |iarrot« chatter and S(*ream. 
Though th« tritlcfi bowl and the cynics aall^. 

And Iif** s«*eii4s a mt»4>klng dream. 



There Is one thing that grandly counts. 
In the face of the tempting glare. 

In the tempests of doubt, on the lonely 
In the thickets of thorny care. 

And that Is to hold the truth ! 

To abide with Justice and right, 
To be a man In genuine sooth. 

With heaven's Invincible might. 

There are bowers of beauty and love. 
There are trumpets of lordly fame, 

There are pleasures below and blessings above 
That flash with a lifting flame. 

Let them flaunt their allurements high. 
Let them beckon and call and cajole ; 

There Is only one worth In the earth and the 
And that Is an honest soul. 


Neighbor Languid over the way 
Gets no sleep by night or day. 
Pale and nervous neighbor, say. 
What's your pillow stuffed with? 

Turkey-stu fling often, friend, 
Has a nightmare for Its end. 
And your slumber may depend 
Just on pilloW'Stufllng. 

Corn-husks, feathers, cotton, hair. 
Pine needles or rose leaves rare. 
Which you have I do not care, 
For your plllow-stufllng. 

Ah, but, neighbor, tell me this : 
Does a hearty good-night kiss 
Furnish softness, health, and bliss 
To your pUlow-stufllng? 

Yes, and, neighbor, let me know : 
Does a prunlng-knlfe or hoe, 
Spade or rake or trowel, go 
In your pUlow-stufDng? 

In your pillow are there found 
Three good miles of solid ground 
Measured off, a pleasant round. 
Just for plllow-stufflng ? 

Have you filled It, let me ask, 
Full with many a household task ; 
Honest work that needs no mask 
Is your pillow stuffed with? 

Does your pillow-case contain 
Happy thoughts to charm the braln,- 
Some wise volume, sweet and sane, 
Is your pillow stuffed with? 

Ah, my neighbor, have you there 
Sedatives of trusting prayer, — 

Springing faith that conquers care 
Is your pillow stuffed with? 

Love that seeks another's ease. 
Tact that knows the way to please, 
Songs, smiles, Jokes, help, gifts, — are these 
In your pillow-stufllng ? 

Neighbor Languid, throw away 
All your pills and drugs, I pray. 
And Inquire, without delay, 

What your pillow 's stuffed with ! 


A school it is, where glorious things are 

taught ; 
A factory as well, where lives are wrought ; 
A garden, where the flower-Uke children grow ; 
An ocean, too, where freighted vessels go. 

It is a school, the school of Jesus Christ : 
His treasure-house as well, of gems unpriced ; 
His army, drilled for high, heroic strife ; 
His orchard, with all golden fruitage rife. 

It loves a Book, this Bible Sunday school ; 
It owns a sceptre — Christ's imperial rule : 
It has one task — the Saviour's will to do : 
It holds one faith — that He is good and tnie. 

O school, unending is your perfect lore. 
O army, forward ! Jesus goes before. 
O workmen, labor ! Jesus labors too ; 
You cannot fail, your Master toils with you. 


[Written in the World War.] 

Peril surrounding. 
Danger abounding. 
Menace confounding. 

Threaten our land ; 
Highly deciding. 
Firmly confiding. 
Boldly abiding. 

Stoutly we stand. 

Cowards may call us. 
Horrors appall us, 
Evils befall us. 

We will not yield : 
Faith to be plighted. 
Wrongs to be righted. 
Souls to be knighted, — 

On to the field ! 

Now for a new world. 
Now for a true world. 
Gladly for you. world, 

Daro we to fight. 
We will not palter. 
We will not falter. 
Knaves to the halter, 

God for the right ! 




Drear, lonely men beside tbe ringing track! 
Hlow-moving men, with crippled feet nod l>ack, 
One armed, one-legged, battered many wayti, 
Doomed to monotonous and tiresome days, — 
Tbe tinkle-tinkle of tbe falling bars, 
Tbe waving flag, tbe swirl of thundering cars, 
Then tinkle-tinkle, teams and hurrying men, 
A moment's rest, and — Just tbe same again. 
Not from their grudging lips, reserved and 

But from the stiffened form, the mangled 

Through all the sombre, pitiable year 
Tb^ same unworded warning you may hear : 
"These cruel rails have made me what you 

Tho8e coming wheels have crushed and crip- 
pled me !'• 
The tinkle-tinkle — "Look, and have a care!'* 
The waving flag — "Behold me, and beware !** 
O gloomy fate I — and may it ne'er he mine, — 
To 6c- for all one's life a danger siffn I 


Said Mr. Roosevelt : "Those are sticks 
That keep nway from poUticx. 
I^t uprlKht fellows Jump right in. 
And try their Ite^t to flght and win. 
You'll do tbe nation good ; and you 
Will get good from the nation, too. 
If you can't work with other men. 
IVrhapK you are too good; and then 
IVrbupH you aren't, hut finick>, — 
A foollKb eccentricity." 
Which iMu't vague maKnlloqurnco, 
But downright Roosevelt common sense ! 


Forth from your lowly Past ! In humble wiso 
rp to tbe bigbest heaven lift your eyv*. 
No glorieH that the heroes ever knew 
But <hk1 has placed them waiting there for 

Flirt b from your evil Pant ! Tbe shame and 

•"In — 
Darr now to live an tbi'v bad never l»een. 
In JeDun cleanM*«l and in Ilirt MurenesM nurr. 
Know that the yearit to conic arc swei't and 

Forth from your troubled Fast I How dark 

the dayn, 
How dreary and perplexed your wandering 

wnys ! 
Forgi't those fears and tears and scenes ab« 

And enter all tbe joyaace of your I<ord. 

Forth from your lonely Past! No comrade 

Your inner warfare for the good and true ; 
But in the time to come till time shall end 
You shall not lack a comrade and a friend. 

Forth from your Past! *Twas gfren you to 

A Future from It, all with blessings flllcd. 
Enter its open gate. Its liberal door. 
And live its happy lord for evermore. 

•*I*LL TRY." 

"Tbe others will laugh,'* said the Bugbear, 

"And ridicule you on the sly.** 
**Never mind.** said Jenny Endeavor, 
"I'll try." 

'*Tou*ll surely break down,*' said the Bugbear ; 

"You know you are terribly shy.** 
*'Never mind,** said Billy Endeavor, 

••1*11 try.** 

*'It'8 really too hard.'* said the Bugbear; 

••You might as well venture to fly." 
"Never mind,*' said Susie Endeavor, 

••1*11 try." 

••Just put the thing off,** said the Bugbear. 

"And others tbe lack will supply.'* 
•'I'll not,*' answered Tommy Endeavor, 

-I'll try." 


Beneath tbe Bo.«ton Common elms 

A careless crowd invades; 
But I. within tboric shadowy realms, 

(Consort with noble ahades. 

1 wnlk with WInthrop. soul of worth. 

The governor pioneer; 
I show him men from all the earth. 

Their motley gpeech we hear. 

I meet Sam Adams now and then. 
And Paul Revere the bold, 

John Hancock of the mighty pen. 
The Minute Men of old. 

Tbey ask if Faneuil Hall remains 

And echoes, as of yore. 
To patriot shouts, to bursting chains, 
"Freedom for evermore!" 

I stand when* ranged tbe British tent. 
Where rowed their l»oati away 

For Lexington and Concord bent 
On that historic day. 

r see the shattered troops retaro. 

And wonder, as I gase, 
If |>atriot hearts as hotly bum 

As In tlioae ancient days. 



And once I met a splendid three, — 
Charles Sumner, man of state, 

Phillips, the Voice of Liberty, 
And Garrison the Great ! 

"Ah, Boston, Freedom's home,*' they sighed, 
"Still harbors many a slave, — 
The slaves of passion, greed, and pride ; 
And who will seek and save?" 

Thus, as that sacred soil I tread. 

With mighty memories rife. 
The spirit of the heroes dead 

Calls me to kindred life ! 


The times are ready ! Far along the hills 
The camp-fires of the morning are alight, 

ITp ! for the day is full of armored ills. 
Up ! for the brave are eager for the fight. 

Too long have greed and rapine, craft and 

Too long have all the minions of the pit 
From seats of regnant vantage overawed, 

And cloaked iniquity with specious wit. 

The wrong that cows the slave inspires the 
Where hungry faint, where women sell 
their shame, 
Where ten men's wealth is locked by one 
man's key. 
Where Justice is a mask and law a name. 

Where strength has leave to starve but not to 
Where twisted villains bind the nation's 
Where Mammon desecrates her holy soil. 
And Treason grinds her stars beneath his 

There is the brave man's challenge and his 

There is his rapture while it is his woe ; 
For what can any son of freedom ask 

But God and right, a comrade and a foe? 

The times are ready, but the people wait ; 

Wait for a man, for men, for any man 
Who, in the Joy of duty simply great. 

Follows "I ought to" with the glad "I can." 

The people wait, impatient. Very long. 

To old allegiances inertly true. 
With meditative growing sense of wrong 

The people have been tarrying — for you. 

For you, the authentic leaders designate ; 

For yon, the wise to move in ordered ways. 
Skilled to reform and not distract the state, 

And prudently restore the better days. 

They wait for you ; but ah ! if you should 
If sudden fear or any golden lure 
Should catch your soul or paint your courage 
And stay you from this mission high and 

Then will the people wait no more for men, 
Nor law nor rote nor any other thing ; 

Then will they sternly seize the iron pen. 
And write themselves, and their Just im- 
pulse, king ! 

Then, by whatever road, unwisely fast. 

By might of dwarfs and uubewigged de- 

WIU righteousneas be surely done at last. 
And Freedom's children venture to be free. 


W'hen I am exiled from home and from love. 
Stones underneath and the blackness above. 
Longing for light and the heart of a friend. 
Then to my Bethel the angels descend. 

When through the wilderness panting and 

Jezebel-hunted, alone and forlorn. 
Weakly I wander in desperate mood. 
Then come the angels with strengthening food. 

When in Gethsemane's sorrow and dread. 
Through the black waters my spirit is led, 
When in my anguish I pray for release. 
Then come the angels and minister peace. 

Heaven is near me wherever I roam ; 
Christ is the doorway and God is the home ; 
Forth to my misery, darkness, and sin, 
God sends the angels to welcome me in ! 


Pick them up and shove them in. 
While the people stare and grin, 
W*hile the curious people stare. 
Gathered here from everywhere, — 
Frothing in a sudden fit. 
By a tumbling hammer hit. 
Cut and beaten in a fight. 
Fallen In a drunken plight, — 
Pick them up and shove them in 
While the callous people grin ; 
Sound the gong's imperious call. 
Hurry to the hospital ! 

Pick them up and shove them in, — 
Fallen into secret sin, 
Tumbled from ambition's height. 
Bruised in trade's unfeeling fight, 
Drunk with Mammon's mad excess. 



Ditched In utter hopelessness. 
Dazed with pleasure's fflddy round. 
Knocked by passion to the /ground, — 
Come, unseen, swift ambulance. 
Take them in their stupid trance. 
Take them swiftly, one and all ; 
Ilurry to the Hospital ! 


I am a tool in the Carpenter's hand. 

And obedience only is mine. 
Never a whit may I understand 

The Carpenter's vast design. 

Mine to stay if He bids me stay. 

And go if He bids me go ; 
Mine to plod in the same dull way 

Steadily to and fro. 

Mine to present a handle firm. 

And an edge that is sharp and true ; 

Mine to achieve, in my destined term. 
Just what He would have me do. 

The Nazareth shop in the centuries dead 
Has sunk from the sight of men. 

O Joy If my life, by the Carpenter led, 
May restore that shop again ! 


My birches are the girlhood of the glen. 

Amid the pines and darker hemlocks there 

They hold the eye enchanted, shimmering 
Like maidens in a throng uf sombre men. 
They wait upon the borders uf the fen 

As meny waits on foulness : to the air 

That shudders from a cave where serpents 
They dance and dimple till it smiles again. 
Where all Is delicate, the i^ssence they 

And paradigm of daintiness demure ; 
Tb«> h«>urt of laughter where the whole Is gay, 

Th<> iM»ul of purity where all is pure. 
Sllirht raiment n<HHling In the honest day. 

So uf their Inner whIteneMs are they sure. 


Twflo in the awkward stern she nat, 
And b*arne<l to stiiT the IkiuI. 

\ vIhIoii In a sailor hut. 
The swe4>test girl atl<»at. 

<'«tlilly I hnd to tell her b«>w. 

Thoimh It was hard to Htay 
Se(lat«>ly pullint; .•«t th** Iniw 

.\ Htioir iMiiit'N Icnuth nway. 

ll»-r littlt' tinud*4 upon the ro|H>s 
Were \^hlto as baby snow ; 

They drew my fears, my daring bopet. 
And turned them to and fro ! 

At length I said, "Oh, Lucy dear, 

Fair helmsman of my life. 
Now you have learned so well to steer. 

Come, steer me as my wife !" 

She said she would ; and ever since 

That sophomoric plea. 
I've urged — but never could convince — 

'Twas only simile ! 


Ah me, for the backaches our fathers en- 
Their minds and their l>odies serenely em* 

The good honest backaches, dispelled by the 

And adequate lotion of good honest sleep ! 
They hammered the anvil, they tngged at the 

They toiled and they moiled in the field and 

the mow. 
They bent to the last, and they swayed to 

the loom. 
And their heavy flails crashed like the crmek- 

Ings of doom ; 
And then, as they pounded and pummelled 

There came, as the climax and crown of the 

The witness of work and the promise of rest. — 
An ache In the back and a peace in the breast. 
But now. in this harrying, hurrying nation. 
The crown of our labor is — nervous prostrm- 


We turn out ten shoes where our fathers 
made one. 

Our books come to fini$ ere theirs bad begun. 

We hurry to work and we hurry to play. 

We live In to-morrow instead of to-day. 

Our letters are written as fust as we talk. 

We tly with our motors, disdaining to walk. 

Full well may we liken our life to a race. 

With eight men contending for every man's 

Stung on by the Insh of a shadowy need. 

The whip of ambltbm. the iH'ckon of greed. 

No wonder men xavagely long for a few 

Of the giMMl honest backaches our forefathers 

When mankind was spare<l the supreme des- 

The rhokln»; mud nightmare, of nervous pros- 

Our Work Is a f ok bank : our play is a liore; 
I»eH|M>n(leiit-y lurk<« by the nU\o of our dour. 
The present Is darkness, the future Is dead,. 



And feara are the food upon wblch we are 

There's nothing of brightness on land or on 

So weary and dreary and troubled are we. 

Then ho! for the backaches our fathers en- 

Head calm in its thinking, hands sanely em- 
ployed ; 

Those good honest backaches, dispelled by the 

And adequate lotion of good honest sleep ! 

We'll gladly gain less, may we only **go slow," 

And that sleep— and that backache — in pov- 
erty know. 

Relieved of the horror and dull desperation, 

The lingering nightmare, of nervous prostra- 


O leader, lead them into peace. 

The hash of thought, 
The qoiet where our worries cease 

And will is wrought. 

O leader, lead them into prayer. 

The look above. 
The upward reach that touches there 

The hands of Love. 

O leader, lead them into zeal. 

The sacred fire 
Of hearts that holy fervor feel, 

And never tire. 

O leader, lead them into power 

That aye succeeds. 
So that this blessed, happy hour 

May fruit in deeds. 


The Sundial said to the Daylight-Saving 

Clock : 
**I stand for Truth as steady as a rock. 
Nothing but the Truth do I dare to testify ; 
Men may bid me cheat, but I will — not — lie. 
Lying is a mortal sin, cheating is a crime ; 
I alone of all the world keep the proper 


The Daylight-saving Clock to the Sundial 

"When the sun goes down you are dead, 

dead, dead. 
Tied like a log to this rolling ball. 
Only half of time do you tell at all. 
I testify to the Truth of Health, 
Speak the Truth of Happiness, tell the Truth 

of Wealth. 

Yours is the Truth of a dull routine. 
Just the Truth of Matter, of the Sun Ma- 
Your literal Truth is crudely wrought ; 
Mine is the Truth of the Higher Thought.'* 

But the Sundial still, in a manner proudly 

Sticks to the Truth in a World of Lies. 


The way may be long from that land of song. 

That country of endless day, 
But far or near, I have never a fear 

But mother will find a way. 

They will want her there in a mansion fair, 

But ah ! she will say them nay, 
And out of that Joy to the heart of her boy 

My mother will find a way. 

She will hasten back on the starry track. 
She will neither faint nor stay ; 

Through whatever wild, to her longing child 
My mother will find a way. 

They were worn and sore in the days of yore. 

Those feet of mutable clay ; 
Now on wings of white in untiring flight 

My mother will cleave her way. 

I shall know it well when she comes to dwell — 
For a year or a month or a day ; 

No fragment of speech my senses may reach. 
But mother will find a way. 

Sad things she will see when she comes to me, 

My sins — a wretched array ; 
But Tm sure of her will to believe in me 

And mothers will find a way. 


Worry, worry, shifty-eyed, 

Ix>ok me in the face ! 
Throw that suUenness aside ; 

Come, debate the case ! 

Here's the Judge, good Common-sense, 

Waiting in his chair ; 
Spirits of intelligence 

Form a Jury fair. 

Come, I'm ready : state the ground 

Of each groan and sigh ; 
All your gloomy fears expound. 

And the reasons why. 

What's your spite against us men? 

Not a word to say? 
Ah ! you're off ? Good riddance, then ! 

Hope you've gone to stay ! 


"To doe till itepii'' 

A ■lander un thp rBllbful dnntlah waj 
R}' It min mpin to fallov tike a thl«t. 
To trfml)le at tb» rrackllDK of a leaf. 

Add hid- a di 
N". on '. To  

tbere'i Ubrl In the | To leap with lore and MfiniM* aDd ]or. 
Be ready Tor the beartleat emploj ; 
To woTsblp blm aa It be were a god. 
And follow evei7 atrp th«t he baa trod; 
To haoK opon big wblitle or bis word ; 
To aklm atong as hippy ai  bird; 
Wltb shining ^yn and with a btart of eh<M 
To be a romrade aod a friend aliicen; 
Tbat — never mind what itupld men hut IT— 
Tbat Is tu "doe hli itvpi" tbe dc^llab waj I 


WORDS.> word ci>ni- wniDK '. men of mljiht. 

Wb.m Kb..iil.l *e tm-t but joa? to whom 

AI l.e.k ..t *-l"iy. leiplnn to the need 


Wh.'re ir.[iii..el,,.« k.h- would try on manlr 

The maslP «eli i,r .•.>mnwrce? Wbo ibould 



WininE I'l di'lvi' lo dliiniooda or dirt. 

•■ nmrtv of Iwliii'trr vltb fruitful rlftbtl 

KklKuJ ii. Ileal lb.- Mu)>l»'rLnt[ iirchln'i hurt 

iir. tbp «,£.,<-i..,i< ,,u-l. til.' f..r«ord Klsht. 

Or ,ir.h ilie irue>[ tblnker'- tTOe«t creed. 

V..uri. lb.- liiKiilbrrlaR mind, the outlook 

ll, of «.rvont«. noMy bail lluq 



ireauii- riiri-e*. pi.werH tenwljr tried, 

-III hut thyiMlt; F..r Ihou. dull-eyed. Inert 

■1 iwrtiier fivltliii fai'lU' to unite. 

l>.".( lam-lv wear the . bain, of buman Bietd, 

DWD I'f micbt ! Ibp pniili'nl id'I Ihe MronR : 

Itiiie Iblne ow IMlnc. tear wbal tlKW 

Vbrn <linll w- Mfely re«i ,.iir w.^il ..n you ? 

1II.I-I heil. 

hen iruit In yoii lo rluhi the palenl wronjE. 

And m.H-k tby prophet i>oD« of better darn 

AdiI M<-» b aiillr In all r»u do? 

drone word*. t>e leii> wlItlDe; Pay Bob(«d 

rn will y«i Irarn ■<• dnR the brotber-MOR? 

To nun len<.ble : Ij-I nt dumlmeu aeal 

Wheo t.. your iruit will you I* (raudly 

All lli>. ibut move uol to ibrit Hakcr-| 




[Written In the World War.] 

Our country calls for heroes. 

And who is a hero now 
With no fear in his eyes. 
With no shade of disguise, 

With a purpose upon his brow? 

The wide world calls for heroes, 

And who iieili a hero be. 
With a love for the whole 
And a clear, steady soul 

And a spirit brave and free? 

Hi^h heaven calls for heroes, 
And who is a hero there. 
With a will for the best. 
And a mind for the test. 
And a heart that knows to dare? 

But never mind the heroes. 
Nor herald the hero's worth : 

For our land we will die 

And for God on high. 
And for all the groaning earth ! 


He who hath never been in love 
Hath half his powers still to prove. 
He knoweth not how keen to see 
His love- en lightened eyes may be. 
How gay his wit, how bright his tongue. 
His soul how strong, his heart how young. 

He who hath never been in love 
Hath half his folly still to prove. 
He knoweth not the silliness 
His tongue is able to express. 
What Jealousy, what license bold. 
What pettiness, his heart may hold. 

He who hath never been in love. 

Half his delights are still to prove. 

He knoweth not the subtle charm 

Of tender hand, of clasping arm. 

Nor half the Joys that leap and start 

From woman's eyes and mouth and heart. 

He who hath never been in love 
Hath half his torments still to prove. 
He knoweth not what frets absurd 
Uncoil from careless look and word, 
Nor how his peace may be undone 
Before two wills are bound in one. 

He who hath never been in love, — 

How to the dullard can I prove 

That all the folly lovers show 

l8 naaght to that new power they know. 

And all the torments that annoy 

Are merest motes within their Joy ? 


The older ones that know me best. 
And hear and weigh and see, 

Finding I somewhat bear the test. 
Somewhat believe in me. 

But oh, dear lojal little heart, 

Though others bold aloof. 
How sure of me thou always art 

Without a single proof I 

And now no reason's cool control 

So wins me to be true 
As this unthinking little soul 

That trusts me through and through. 


I had a cloud, a private little cloud. 

Precisely as large as my head. 
Not a ray ot the sky ever reached my eye 

When the private little cloud was outspread. 

Now I have learned I can stretch the little 
And I fling It over every one I see. 
And the more I spread it out, this fabric won- 
drous stout. 
The thicker Is its shadow over me ! 


I've heard a stranger, Crito. — such a man ! 
He spoke to-day before a little crowd 
Of chance-drawn folk upon the Hill of Mars, 
And as I strolled he caught me — such a man ! 
A short man, somewhat bowed as if in 

thought ; 
An ugly man, but ah ! bis shining face. 
And swift, compelling voice I I hardly think 
Demosthenes or even Jr^Hchines 
Could so command bis hearers. And he told, 
There on the Uill of Mars, about a god 
Could conquer Mars, and yet the god of peace. 
Indeed, he vaunted hlni all gods in one, — 
The god of tempests like the thundering Zeus, 
And at a word the storm would kiss his feet : 
Light of the world, Apollo in the sun ; 
Bread of the world, Demeter bounteous ; 
The god of truth, than Pallas wiser far. 
And more than Aphrodite god of love. 
This paragon of.gods. the stranger said. 
Could more than Hermes move the hearts of 


With winjwme words, and more than Heracles 
Could work his wonders, and could heal the 

With touch that ^^sculapius might desire. 
Such nonsense ! but you should have heard 

the man. 
His voice is still a clarion in my ears : 



**The God who made the world and all therein 
Dwells not in temples made with human 

And is not served by human hands," he said, 
"As though he needed anything. ... He 

All nations of one blood," the stranger said. 
"He is not far from any one of us. 
In him we have our being, live and move. 
We are his children " much he made of 

This herald of all deities in one. 
He said he sent his Son, this Father-god, 
Who came to earth and 'died upon a cross 
And rose again to heaven, all for us. 
Tou should have beard him, Crlto — such a 

man ! 
You're Kolng to the baths? The day is warm 
And duHty. I will go along with you. 
They say a ship from Kgypt is in port. 
And in its cargo is a linen mesh 
80 fine you scarce can see it. And they say 
The Governor at once fH)ught up the lot 
To send it to the Kmperur at Home. 
A prudent man, our (iovornor, and wise. 


When Fashion, l>eauteous maid, was bom. 
They took the freshness of the mom, 
They took the colors of the flowers. 
The fragrances of hidden bowers. 
The Mwecp of birds in curving flight. 
The radiant splendors of the light. 
The soft enticing sway of Hong, 
The glories that to June belong. 
The fall of water dashing fair. 
And all the sheen of sunny air. 
Thus fruuilng, from a myriad norms. 
This cn*ature of a thousand forms. 
So winsome, sweet, and delicate 
They s«'iit her forth ; and leame<l too late 
That whfu thry made this lovely whole 
They Kotnchow had b'ft out the soul. 


The guti's nrv (|i*wii, but I wonder, I wonder. 

Why Ml iiiiiiiy art' dodging under. 

Out on the tracks where the trains are msh- 

Cruel wh«N'ls cutting and crashing and crush- 

lUK' ! 

The K»t*>s art' d«»wn and the red flags are 

But undtT they slink, their |M*rlI defying, 
Moth«r uiid chlldrfii and wife all crying, 
''Back fn»m tb(> tracks where the dead are 

lying :• 

Down are the gates before the tavem ; 

Down, by the gamblers' flaming cavern : 

I>own, by the lures where the lust fiend lin- 

Down, where the trade-thief his base gold 
fingers ; 

Down, by the playhouse, the brothel's feeder ; 
Down, by the books that besmirch their reader ; 
Down ! pressed down by the friends that love 

By the laws of their land, and the God aboT» 

them ! 

The gates are down, but I wonder, I wonder. 
Why so nuiny are dodging under, 
i:nder the gates and the signal flags flying. 
Out on the red tracks, dying— dying! 


The wild wind smites the Illy, 
But kisses her next day ; 

The iciest December 
Is melted into May. 

The sullen bleak of woodland 
laughs with a brook ere long; 

The bare and silent branches 
Burst to a bloom of song. 

O kind, forgiving Nature ! 

O unforgiving men I 
And you and I, my darling. 

Come, let us love again ! 


My works, dear poet wife, are set 

In squares of awkward alphabet; 

But yours In curves of living grace. 

From dancing feet to happy face : 

For though my verse were beauty's pearl. 

Your poem Is a little girl ! 

8tiff-penn(><l I picture love** dear bliss; 

Your poem thrills me with a kiss. 

I write of music — lame and long; 

Your po4'ni Is a living song. 

My verses ape a clumsy wit ; 

In lines of laughter yours are writ. 

What patient days and weary nights. 
What f«>ars. what hopes, and m'hat dellgbta 
You pack into your poem, dear. 
With loving toll of year by year ; 
While I — a scrawling page or two. 
A headache, and the thing will do I 

My dullard, tuirren verses fall 
Expiring to the old-book stall ; 
While your sweet poem, age on age, 
lteprinte<l In a wider page. 
Will bear the Image of yourself 
To Time's remotest, fairest sbelf ! 




Have fears and worries vexed you? 

Go out amons the trees ; 

Think : He who made all these 
Will He not well protect you ? 

Do thronging doubts molest you? 
Sit down there in the sun 
Where heaven's joys o'errun, 

And think how God has blessed yon. 

Does some one scorn or slight you? 

Stand forth among the hills. 

Forget your petty ills. 
Remember: God will right you. 

Do long, long sorrows grieve you ? 
Look upward to the stars. 
And think : No anguish mars 

The home that will receive you. 


If the dead came back, — 

If in some shadowy glen their forms might 

meet us. 
Or from some wandering wind their voices 

greet us. 
Or if, in all earth's strange or common places. 
We might have hope to see the dear, dead 

Hope by keen eyes or hearing to di8co.ver 
The father, sister, husband, wife, or lover. 
From death come back, — 

Life would be all a watching and a waiting, 
A standing tiptoe at the mystic grating, 
A pleading for the blessed shapes to linger. 
Straining to touch them with a doubting fin- 
Chattering wildly of the past, and suing 
Wildly for pardon of our evil doing 
Before they died. 

Their pardon, lacking God's, would still con- 
tent us; 
We should walk blindly in the way they sent 

Follow no unseen Christ, nor seek the portal 
Of that unseen, faith-conquered life immortal. 
We should be serfs to sight. If out of heaven 
To our crude eyes so crude a boon weregiven, — 
Our dead come back. 

And soon, distracted with this double showing, 
Half earth, half heaven our doubtful senses 

Labor would languish into dreams and fan- 
Duty be dazed by blinding sunward glances. 
The world would grow less real, nor heaven 

come nearer. 
Our dear ones be no happier or dearer, 
Should they come back. 

No happier — ah, no ! How selfish-hearted 
Who wishes back the blessedly departed. 
Back from their sunny peace and swift- 
winged power 
Into our cares that clog and woes that lower. 
Just that our faithless, fretful eyes may view 

A few brief years before we shall go to them. 
When we are dead. 

Ah, God knows best, one life at one time giv- 
Sparing to fret us with a double living, 
A clash of mysteries, two worlds, two mis- 
Two stem and strange and masterful condi- 
My prayers I turn to praise, O God in heaven. 
That to their wail this boon Thou hast not 
given, — 

My dead come back. 


A poem touched me In the night 

With softest finger-tips ; 
I laid my hand upon her arm, 

I pressed it with my lips. 

So soft her arm, so soft and smooth. 
She slipped it quite away. 

Alas, alas, my Beautiful, 
Oh, visit me by day ! 


"There's something Tve nUat, mi$t, miet/' 

Said the Fog, 
As he bent down over, and peered around. 

His eyes on the ground. 

As he crept, crept, crept. 
Over meadow and forest, city and bog. 

"I insist, I insist. 
There's something I've mist, mist, miat. 
It's something or other, I don't know what ; 
I used to know, but forgot — forgot. 

So I'll creep, creep, creep. 

While the folks are asleep. 
And 111 look in the comers, and everywhere. 

To see if it's there. 
When I find it, my memory *11 get a Jog ; 
I shall know it, sure," 

Said the Fog. 

"What's all that nonsense I hear?' 

Said Policeman Sun, 
As he leaped with a chuckle into the day 

And fired away 
A regular broadside of bursting light. 

While the frightened Fog 

At a lively Jog 
Straightened up and betook him to flight : 



'What's all that muttering nonsense I hear? 

Some thlevinK. that's clear. 

Tbere'8 nothing you've misli, 

1 inslBt, 
But here's a thing you'll remember pat; 

Take that — that — that ! 
You're a muddlehead. anyway, little worth; 

(iet off of the earth ! 
You'll not be miat when the day '8 began," 

Said Policeman Sun. 


In my glftb I travel far 
As th»' lUH'dy nations are, — 
North and south and east and west; 
Givers* travels aro the best. 

lu my ^ifts I dig a mine 
Down where lordliest tronsures shine,- 
Gratitu Ic of hf.'irts o|iiir<>ss<'d ; 
Givers' Klundikos are thi* best. 

In my gifts I mount and ris** 
Tlirough the reaches of the skies 
To u lii'aven of Joy und rest ; 
(fivers' wings are far the best. 


*'I love you. i>apa" — that was all she said, 
Iler little imlm pressed tlrmly into mine; 
And yet 1 tbink all heaven o\«>rhead 

l-'liisbed at the words with rapture more 
I think the nnt;«'ls hushed tlu>lr symphony 
In Joy that sueh a pn'eious thinn: could \h*. 

"I love you." all I am and all sincere. — 

From child to parent, youtli to trembling 
Itetwi'fu the w<'<lded lives of many a year. 
Or tbos4' that friendship liobls in tute- 
laKe. - 
The ^\^••ete^t Words that move tl>«' eager air, 
And uby art' they so hesitant and rare'/ 

"I liive you." said to man. t<i God atK>ve, 
Saiil nrtit'Mxiy in all l\delltie-«. 
Sai«l li.-ipplly. In ravishment of love. 
*'I Io\e you." thow three words. — why, all 
tliat is. 
The vast complex of time and circumstance. 
Is l>ut a training for their utterance! 

TIIK Til I'M n. 

Hail to the thumb, the useful thumb. 

The gra*«iMT. the hold«>r. tb«» doer of dei'ilii. ' 
\Vh*'n- tlnKern are futile and ttHds Huc<-umli. 

Htulid. ungainly, the thumb succettU. 

Uail to the thumb, the homely thumb ; 

Kings and Jewels are not for it. 
Compliments, dainty and frolicsome. 

For fingers are suited, for thumbs unfit. 

ilall to the thumb, the modest thumb; 

Gently and calmly it hides away. 
Never for it a banner and drum. 

Or praise at the end of a strenuous day. 

And hail to the men who are like the thumb ; 

Men who are never sung by a bard. 
Men who are lal>oring. modestly dumb. 

Faithfully doing the work that is hard. 

Some day. men of the toiling thumb. 
Men of the mmlest. invincible worth. 

Some day your high reward will come 

From the Hand of the Lord of heaven and 
earth ! 


Fairies, fill my fountain pen I 
Fill it full of fancies. 

Khymes that ISit and come again 
As a fairy dances. 

Fill it full of merriment 
Bright and bubbling over. 

Charge it with the happy scent 
Of the happy clover. 

Joy shall fill my fountain pen 
That all Joy surpasses. 

For it slmll not write for men. 
But for lads and lasses ! 


Elsie was bad as bad could be. 

So to tbe comer she had to go; 
Nothing but cold, white wall to 
Nothing to think of but — O dear me! — 

The mischief past and the present woe. 

Out of the wall her mother's face 
I^Hiked so tenderly swtM't and sad, 

S«M'mini; to till tbe blank. Imre space. 

SiN'mliiK t<i say to her girl in tiisgrace, 
"I>«'ar little Mlsie, why arc y«>u mo badT^ 

0|>en her vyes or close them tight. 

Still our reU'l that face must see. 
Till at last th«* piMtr little i;lrl. in spite 
Of tbe htultbornest will. nutdM headlong fllffht 

To her mother's arms and forgiveness frve. 

Ah, my child, as the yeani go by. 

And many nn error bringn many a smart. 

May soni»' hushe*! corner be ev«'r nigh. 

Where the Father-love in the Father's eye 
May lead you close to the Father's heart. 

Th€ grsDlte shore rebuked the lea : 
"Why do you vary hour by hour 

Changrful inil reatlen? Look at m 
And learn bow quiet matcbes powi 

The sea made answer to the abore ; 


Soft throagb a veil of ametbyBline mlat 

The gentle watera shine. 
Tender and dreamful as a maiden, klased 

By unseen Upa divine. 

The sky jB pearl, the hllla are darker pearl ; 

A gleam or sliver— Is It not (he awlrl 
or Boutbey'i own l,odore? 

Tbia IB the acene anointed Soulhey'a eyes 

And ailed bla plaeld days ; 
And atlll these holy walera may baptize 

To beauty and to praise. 


By the amoothnesa or the aplrlt. 

And tbe clarity or mind. 
And the blessed, enlm rorgettiiloe 

or matters left behind: 

And by tboae Inner voices 
That whlsperlngly speak : 
"This day shall l>c a Sunday. 
In the middle or tbe vreek!" 




Ah, Thomas Jones, young businesa man. 
It was a very foolish plan 
To sit so long in business hours 
With your unlSedged poetic powers 
Engaged in feeble, fluttering bliss. 
The net resultant being — this : 

**I really do not understand 
Why that dear art is called «Aorthand. 
Her hand that darts the mystic signs 
Is long, with queenly tapering lines. 
Longhand I'll call it, whitehand too 
(Gleaming my darksome office through), 
And Bofthand, soft as kitten's fur. 
The hand of my stenographer ! 
One other name is better still : 
'Tis myhand,—it she only wlU !" 

These lines, however, will explain 
Why Lucy Pratt is rather vain 
Of one white finger, glittering 
Since Monday with a diamond ring. 


Have you heard the old saw of the Persians, 

That saying both witty and true, 
"The whole world is covered with leather 

To him who is shod with a shoe"? 
Fine calfskin or kid or morocco, 

(Jreat cavalry boots armed with steel. 
The daintiest. Jauntiest slippers, 

(^oarrn* brogucM tumbled down at the hf^el — 
Whot mtttt«'r tho di(Ii>ring fashions? — 

The rlcUcHt and poorest of you 
Will find the whole world clad in leather 

As soon as you put on your shoe ! 
Before, it was cold and uneven, 

ItouKh pebbles and sharp bits of glass. 
Now. presto ! a smooth and warm puvcuient 

Wherever it pleanc you to pass. 

IJut .nh ! there's a maid — have you seen her? — 

A little maid cheery and sw(H^t. 
Who daintily trips, yet I see not 

What leather she wears on her feet ; 
For I know by her sunny eyes' sparkle. 

And by tb<' calm curve of her mouth. 
And by the kind grate of her manners. 

Like warm breezes fresh from the Mouth, 
I kii«»w that wherever her foot falls 

On lovinK task speeillne or t*ent — 
l*h«« roblil«*r moy laugh, but I care not — 

She is shod with the Hhoe of content ! 

And. little maid, thouk'h CindtTella 

MiKht claim your wi««' HbcM» for hf»r own. 

And iMirrowlng 's out of the question 
For mi*, with my "sevens" outgn>wn. 

Just whisper the secret, I pray the«> ; 
Come, what are the shop and the street. 

And where is the cobbler who fashions 
Such beautiful gear for the feet? 

I'll go and I'll offer a treasure 

Will make his big spectacles shine. 
If only two shoes — somewhat larger — 

Like your little shoes, can be mine! 
And then I will don them, and leaptng 

Off over the world will I go. 
Off over my frets and my worries. 

Off over my aches and my woe. 
And loudly to all limping grumblers 

My shoemaker cheer shall be sent : 
"The whole world is covered with gladn< 

To him who is shod with content !** 


I flung myself away from love, 

"No need of love have 1 1" 
I flung myself away from love. 
And held my forehead high. 

I wandered mad, I wandered ter. 
And cursed the savage day. 
"Oh, anywhere away from love. 
Oh, anywhere away !" 

And then at night I trembled down; 

**0 love, my love," I cried, 
"Dear love, O love so far away 
Across the desert wide !" 

Then love made answer, soft and low. 

And triumphed w^ith a smile : 
"Why. love, my love, you know that I 
Was with you all the while !" 

jit: JITSU. 

ThfTr^'s a deadly kind of wrestling 

Known by wily Japanese, 
That can break a little finger. 

Or a nack, with equal ease. 

There are mystic holds and turnings. 
There are crafty tricks galore. 

There on* fatal twists and pressures. 
And — a corpse is on the floor. 

lUit. of all the sly devices 

There is one prime art to know : 

Make your pliant tH>dy fluid 
To the lunging of your foe. 

I^t him at you, blind with fury. 
Aiming at a single point : 

And, as thus he plunges forward. 
Jerk his shoulder out of joint ! 

It's a risky kind of combat, 
.Not the thing for me and yon ; 

Hut I'll venture to find In It 
Just a parable or two. 



This, for instance : When Afl9iction 
Thrusts, Impetuous, at your heart. 

Don't attack him. don't resist him ; 
Act a while a yielding part. 

Let him wear himself upon you, 
Let him buffet empty space ; 

Then, when he is quite exhausted, 
Throw his thigh-bone out of place ! 


On faith's mysterious heights you stand, 
And reach and grasp the Father's hand. 
Oh, with that access bold and free. 
Place a petition there for me ! 

I grope in fogs. Your vision, clear 
In faith's serener atmosphere, 
Oh, use victoriously for me. 
And paint the heaven I cannot see ! 

Too cold my tongue, too dull my ear. 
Earth's nobler words to speak or hear. 
Oh, while I learn the lower song. 
Sing you for me in heaven's throng ! 

Still for myself I'll work and pray. 
And toil along my blundering way ; 
But doubled all my strength will be 
If you, O friend, will pray for me ! 

[Demetrius speaks.] 

My faith, it was a triumph, Claudius ! 

Diana never knew a better day 

Than yesterday. The theatre was full, 

A mass of people and a mass of rage. 

I still can hear them shouting : "Great is she ! 

Great is Diana of the Ephesians, great !" 

They kept it up for two immortal hours. 

Waving and screaming in the theatre, 

Baiting the Jews, and singing temple songs, 

And trying to make speeches here and there, 

But no one listened — ^faith, a glorious day ! 

I think tfiey would be at it even yet 

If the city clerk had let them. You should see 

How Master Paul is humbled. Not a word, 

And going to leave the city, so I hear. 

Good riddance ! There's a gladsome end of 

We'll have no more of Paul, with his con- 

~ tempt 
Of images and shrines. He's finished now. 
Yon should have heard me speaking, Claudius ! 
I swayed them like Demosthenes himself. 
Men of my guild — I know them like a book. 
And I could play upon their very hearts 
With talk of gain, and gods, and silver 

Diana, and religion, and our wealth, — 

Rare words to conjure with, I used them all. 
And then they bore me, me, Demetrius, 
High on their shoulders to the theatre. 
And I was king among them. Well, good-by. 
Good Claudius. We'll hear no more of Paul. 


["A. B. C." speak — that Is, Argentina, 
Braxll, and Chile.] 

Pan-America, glorious name ! 
Statesmanlike purpose and brotherly aim ! 
May the gods favor and prosper the plan ; 
But — who holds the handle and what's in the 

One man's poison, another man's meat ; 
What's in the pan ? Is it wholesome to eat ? 
Good for the North and the Central and South, 
Pleasant for each Pan-American mouth? 

Who holds the pan we are called to admire? 
Any one's fat due to fall in the fire? 
Pan-America ! Excellent plan ! 
But — who holds the handle and what's in 
the pan? 


If he succeeds whose coffers, heaped with 

Are red with ruined and despairing lives. 
The man who owns a mint to coin tears, 
Expert to wring a farthing from a heart, — 
Though all the world pay homage, all the 

Envy the wretch, — If this is to succeed, 
My pride and all my hope shall be to fail ! 

If he succeeds who bids the magpie crowd. 
Tossing his name upon its chattering tongues. 
Talk, write, and dream of blm, and they obey, 
While be they praise, alive on lips of men. 
Has breathed his soul Into the bubble, fame. 
And lives an empty life, — if he succeeds, 
Be mine a life of failure to the end ! 

If he succeeds, the man of strenuous brain, 
Skilled in the deeps and heights of many a 

Bent with the plundered wealth of libraries, 
But ignorant of love, and Ignorant 
Of all the roses and the stars of life, — 
Though men unite to wonder and applaud, 
If this is called success, be mine defeat ! 

But these are not success ; success it Is 
To front the angry tumult of a world 
With Right for comrade ; faithfully to work ; 
To wear contentment shining on the brow ; 
Above the gathered treasures of the globe 
To reckon brotherhood, and make it mine, — • 
This is success, and this my prayer shall be. 




**(;o*»pel hardened"? Can the Word 
Harden hearts, thoug;b dally heard? 
Can the Saviour's graclou«ne8» 
Curse the lives it fain would bless? 
Can the 1-ove that lived and died. 
Mocked, ueglected. crucltltHl. 
While ii only seeks our good 
Fix our hearts in hardihood? 
As the llvlnj: waters roll 
Can they petrify the soul? 

"(loHpel hardened"? Rather say: 
••Hardened In the devil's way. 
Riches hardened, pleasure bound, 
Flxe<l in fashion's silly round, 
Cast In some scholastic mold, 
IcihI with scepticisms cold. 
Or c<»n^eul<Hl in barren toll 
Like a p<)Ht In frosty w>ll." 
••(;.. sp'l hnnlened"? 'Tls absurd I 
"Mammon harden«Kl" Is the word. 

•I WILL liriLl) TlIKi: AX HOUSE." 

Ch<M»»i«» Th(»u my thresholds! Oi)en doors 

fi>r mo 
Wherf h«'av<'n's best dwelleth ! Form the 

Or loot, or sliort. Ordain my fi»<'t to fall 
On v«'Ivct or rouKh »n>ards; rare harm«»ny 
To iM-nr. «»r clanK of hammers : eyes t<> s«h» 
Rich hantfiii^s or stainetl plaster on the wall. 
<;rant (Mitl<H)k widr or prisonin);. and call 
For njy i'tniipanlouH whost* lu'st please Thc*». 
Exc'pt Thou build the house, in vain I build. 
Kx«*«*pt Tbou <lw«'Il theri>in. in vain 1 dw»«ll. 
For all is happiness which Thou hast wllb^d. 
And n«'v»'r llf** is free, save Thou compel. 
With heaven's hljjh handicraft so I be skilled. 
Let houst -htuff »»e what hai>pen. all is well. 


Oh. to stTve <;o(i for a day ! 

Fnun jubilant morn tit the peace and the 

raltu of tbe ni^ht 
To tr< ail no pi'tli but His hnppy and bl<»8Som- 

lii;: i%;iy. 
T«» H.-ek no di'li.:ht 
Hut thf Joy that is one with the joy at 

bi-aNen'" heart ; 
Onl> t«» uo %vber«' Thou art. 
O <mm1 of nil blessiuK and b4>auty ! to lovc. to 


With iilMflifiwi' sweetened by love. nn<l love 

made Ktr< nir by tbe riuht : 
Not iin<-«'. not once to be drunken with Self, 
Or !•> play tbe hyitocrite's pois«»ne<l part. 
C>r to b«>nd tile knee <»f my soul to the pas- 

kioti fnr |N»lf, 

Or (he iclltterluf; jcmN of the mart ; 

Through each glad hour to lay on the wins* 
of its flight 
Some llower for the angels* sight. 
Some fragrant fashion of senrice,' scarlet 
and white. 

White for the pure intent, and red where the 
pulses start : 

Oh. If I thus could serve IHm, could per- 
fectly serve Hlm one day, 

I think I could perfectly serre Him forever — 
forever and aye. 


It shines a tree of fairy land. 

All wonderful with ralnl)ow light. 

And who can fail to understand 

The meaning of the gracious sight? 

For splendid is the star above. 

The songs are such as angels lift. 
And all the tree is sweet with love — 

Rut ah ! it l>ear8 no single gift ! 

And so, though bright the tree and tall. 

And merrily the carols ring. 
It is a symbol, after all. 

And rich folks have the real thing. 

Rut let us keep the syml»ol gay. 

And let it grace each Christmas ere. 
Till men discern the better way. 

And righteous Christmastide achiere. 

No empty shining symbol then. 

But wealth for all the tree shaU l»ear. 
And "reace on earth, good will to men" 

Shall bring to each his honest share. 


The dinner is ended : digestion begins. 
In si»lte of t»ur many st*unachlcal sins. 
For all but tbe wretched and piteous man 
Who is to amuse us the best that he can. 
For all but tbe terrllleil. shivering wight. 
The poor, tremldlng soul *we har* with us 
to-nlu'bt " 

•We have with us tonight"— how sardonic 

tlje plirase 
That bns bl>s«'d since the very prlmonlial 

Wben the monkeys persuaded a silly ImiInk»b 
To rbatter alone hy the light of the mmiD ; 
A lunatic he. like tbe comical sight. 
The postprandial fmd -we have with us to- 


••We have with us to-night" — no. we haven't, 
not we ! 
We have with us a »ha|»e that appears to be 




But the speaker has left half his senses at 

And the rest of his wits on the night 
zephyrs roam, 

And it's only a shrunken and vacuous mite, 

A fragment of man, "we have with us to- 

*'\Ve have with us to-night" — "with us" ! yes, 
as a trout 

Is "with" the proud angler, a hook in his 
snout ! 

Or as the poor victim, in spite of his squeal, 

Is "with" the gay cannibal cooking a moal ! 

Our tongue for a taste and our teeth for a 

Of the quivering prey "we have with us to- 
night" ! 


The nest is round and the nest is small, 
Dear little circle enclosing all, 
All of the joy in the wide world's bound. 
Though the nest is small aud the nest is 

The nest is fashioned of common things. 
Leaves and grasses and twigs and strings. 
Yet never a palace so lordly flue 
As the palace fashioned of leaves and twine. 

The house had never an architect. 

No pother of plans to discuss and select. 

But Love was the builder and Love was the 

And Love was the competent artisan. 

No lease was signed by these happy folk. 
No rent was required by their Landlord Oak, 
All at no charges and all of the best, — 
The world's biggest bargain is surely a nest ! 


There's no one like a mother, lad. 

To comfort all our pain ; 
There's no one like a father, lad, 

To make one smile again ; 
So while we have our mother, boy. 

Let's drive away her fear ; 
And while we have our father, boy, 

Let's fill his heart with cheer. 

There's no one like a mother, lad, 

To keep us pure within ; 
There's no one like a father, lad. 

To warn away from sin ; 
So while we have our mother, boy. 

Oh, let us not rebel ; 
And while we have our father, boy, 

Let'a heed his warnings well. 

The time is surely cumlng, lad. 

When mother will be gone ; 
The time is surely coming, lad. 

Of father's passing on ; 
So while we have our mother, boy. 

Let's make her spirit blest ; 
And while we have our father, boy. 

Let's be our very best. 


I know a little lady — such a very stately 

dame ! 
She's queen of all the lassies, and Elizabeth 's 

her name. 
I also know a damsel made to romp with and 

caress ; 
So I keep a welcome ready for my darling 

little Bess. 
And mother shows me working, just as quiet 

as a mouse. 
A pleasant little girl named Beth, the helper 

of the house. 
And sister shows me Lizzie, who goes with 

her to school, 
Who sometimes gets a lesson, and sometimes 

breaks a rule. 
I'm acquainted with another child I'd rather 

never see ; 
For this young girl, named Betsey, is as 

cross as she can be. 
Now. would you ever guess it? These five 

are but the same 
Kaleidoscopic lassie ! And Elizabeth 's hor 



It was an advertisement 

Appropriately bold — 
I cannot tell the maker. 

Nor where the stuff was sold ; 
But in a glaring headline. 

With letters big and black. 
It promised to cure blushing, 

Or give the money back. 

Ala? for maiden faces. 

All innocent and bright! 
Alas for maiden spirits. 

With childhood thoughts alight ! 
Fareweli the glowing token 

Of purity and truth. 
And hail, cosmetic girlhood. 

And never-blushing youth ! 

Bleach out the scarlet blossoms. 

Freeze hard the marble cheeks. 
And teach an equal simper 

If vice or virtue speaks ; 
For blushes show unworldllness 

And hearts that still are pure, 
And there's a cure for blushing — 

But what con cure the cure? 




•Twaa a hawk first caupht the glimmer from 
the top of Bradford's Hill ; 

Swift he flew to tell the mastiff who keeps 
guard at Saunder's mill ; 

Loud the mastiff bark4>d : "He's coming ! Sun 
is coming : Cuming soon !" 

And a little squirrel heard it far away at 
Haseldoon ; 

Like a flash the squirrel bounded up the hill 
and down the glen, 

And he told the Joyful message to a sleepy 
little wren ; 

Up she started, chirping loudly : **8un is com- 
ing ! Almost here !** 

And her eager little chirping woke our bravo 
old chanticleer ; 

Boldly he sang out the tidings, loud and 
clear as call could be — 

And the rooster by his crowing told the glad- 
some news to me. 


There was an old fellow who never had time 

For a fresh morning look at the Volume sub- 

Who never had time for the soft hand of 

To smooth out the wrinkles of labor and care ; 

Who could not find time for that Bcrrice so 

At the altar of home where the dear ones all 

And never found timo with the people of God 

To learu the good way that the fathers have 
trod : 

But he found time to die ; 

Oh. yes ! 
He found time to die. 

This busy old follow, too busy was he 
To linger at breakfast, at dinner, or tea. 
For the merry Kmall chatter of children and 

But led in his marriage a bachelor life ; 
Too busy for kiNst^s, too busy for play. 
No time to be loving, no time to be gay *. 
No tiino to rrplenlsh his vanishing health. 
No timo to enjoy bis swift-gathering wealth; 

But he found time to die; 
Oh. yes: 

He found time to die. 

Thlit boautiful world had no beauty for bim ; 
Its colors were black and its sunshine was 

No lel»ur«* for wtMtdlnnd. for river, or hill. 
No time in hiw life JPKt to think and l>e still ; 
No time for his nel);hbors, no time for his 

No time for those hifbett Immutable ends 

Of the life of a man who is not for a day. 
But, for worse or for better, forever and mjt ; 

But be found time to die; 
Oh, yes! 

He found tipie to die. 


Old Mr. Solomon Reeder has a pbUosophie 

Which is to reading newspapers most won- 

drously Inclined. 
"They broaden one's Intelligence/* be says 

with conscious pride, 
*'And bring us into sympathy with all the 

world outside ; 
And make us feel the universal brotherhood 

of man, 
Which knits America to Greece and Chile 

and Japan." 
So every evening after tea he sends **tbe 

brats" to bed, 
That in philosophic silence the paper may 

be read ; 
And lonely Mrs. Reeder, as she mutely knits, 

can see 
His every feature glowing with a widening 

sympathy ; 
Until, at half-past ten o*clock; be lajs the 

paper by. 
With universal brotherhood a-gllmmerlng In 

his eye. 


Unfamiliar work and rule, — 
Little Lad's first day in school. 
"Stay : O papa, stay with me !" 
Thus he murmurs tearfully. 
And, though business calls away. 
Papa stays the livelong day. 

Hard the lessons, bard and new. 
All the Little l4id can do*. 
8trnnf;e the room, companions strange, 
Everytbin); a trembling change ; 
But — there's papa xitting near. 
Ready with a look of cheer. 
Heady with a whisi>enHl word 
No one elm* has overheard : 
*'Be a little man. my boy! 
Fill your father's heart with Joy.*' 

So. dear Father of us all. 
When relentless school-bells call, — 
Schools of failure, schools of woe. 
Schools of pain.— and we must go. 
Then Thy children Thou dost own ; 
We need never go alone. 

Strange the school where we bare eome. 
Ah, so different from home! 
Strange the lessons, bard to Icam, 



And the master cold and stern. 
Bat — though endless labors stand 
Waiting for His sovereign hand — 
Bee the Father sitting ntor. 
Ready with a look of cheer, 
Ready with a whispered word 
Not another soul has heard : 

**I am here; my child thou art; 

' Fill with Joy thy Father's heart !" 

Earthly fathers cannot stay 
Longer than the entrance day ; 
But that other loving Friend 
Stays till school is at an end. 


Stop me, good people ! Don't you see 
My temper is running away with me? 
Help, Master Commonsense ! Are you afraid ? 
Good Mistress Prudence, come to my aid ! 
Stop me. Conscience ! Stop me, I pray ! 
My temper, my temper is running away ! 
Dear Brother Kindness, snatch after the reins ! 
Help, or my temper will dash out my brains ! 
Help, or I'll get a terrible fall ! 
Help, Shame, Caution, Love, Wisdom, and all ! 


Of all the vehicles we meet. 

In air and sea and on the street, 

I humbly sing the praise of — feet. 

It is not widely understood 

How safe are feet, how soundly good, 

How Arm with supple hardihood. 

Consider : feet run not away ; 

W here feet are put, there feet will stay ; 

Or turned, feet promptly will obey. 

Further consider : feet will not. 
However worn, or pinched, or hot. 
Explode and wreck your chariot. 

And think : however feet may ache. 
How many million trips they make 
Without a blow-out or a break ! 

And though the feet are punctured, too, 
They mend themselves without ado. 
And plod along as good as new. 

Feet need no license ; feet may go 
In narrowest pathways to and fro, 
The fairest hidden nooks they know. 

Feet linger through a pleasant scene; 

Feet run not out of gasoline ; 

A handy brook, and feet are clean. 

Feet in all weathers boldly run ; 
Heedless of mud their miles are spun. 
Nor by the snow are feet undone. 

Feet run not over dog or boy ; 
Do not with raucous horn annoy. 
Nor throw their dust on others' Joy. 

In fine, on feet I'll travel far. 
The noblest vehicles there are — 
Till I can buy a touring-car ! 

[Written during the World War.] 

All of our wrongs shall be righted 

After the war; 
None of oui tasks will be slighted 

After the war ; 
Women will all be gay, 
Children will sing and play, 
AU our investments will pay 

After the war. 

Nothing at sixes and sevens 

After the war; 
All of our hells will be heavens 

After the war ; 
Weary will get a rest, 
Misery will be blest. 
Worst will become the best 

After the war. 

W^hat if, readier-hearted 

During the war, 
Some of these good things were started 

During the war? 
Wouldn't we multiply 
The chances that you and I 
Might be happy by and by. 

After the war? 


When your heart is warm with love 

Even for your enemies ; 
When your words come from above. 

Not from where the venom is ; 
When you see the man entire. 

Not alone the faults he has. 
Find a somewhat to admire 

Underneath the paltry mass, — 
Not till then, if you are wise. 
Will you dare to criticise. 

When you see the thing that's wrong. 

And — a way to better it, — 
Push a noble cause along. 

Not with censure fetter it ; 
When your purpose is to build. 

Not to tear the building down. 
Use the sunshine that will gild, 

Not the dark and dismal frown, — 
Not till then, if you are wise. 
Will you dare to criticise. 

TEiE miseh-s alternative 

Tllti: JflSBH-S At.TKItNATlVE. 

Wc kDPW a miser, calm and cold, 

Unnltcrablj ploun, 
Wboae grave prtir^iiloDi. imuglr bold, 

ProToklnglf would try ui. 

He claimed (hat all he did or Mid 

Jebovah InitlgHted : 
By hfareDly prompt liiK* he irai led, 

And *o be often italvd. 

UlJk m<m 
Bui Klv, 

"Why. then 


Tbrough tbe ilumberou*. kvel manci c 

Tbp duiky. K>ft foretoken of green, 

Uenlly the iiTomlv ut murnlDg weaves 

UlDla ot Ibe aky morr (ell tban lecn. 




The ticker is a tricker : in its paltry paper 
It win wind you, it will bind you firm as 
fate ; 
With its whirring and its purring it will 
have you in its toils, 
And your waking will be woefully too late. 

While you think it's giving out It will calmly 
take you in. 
While you think you're getting rich you're 
getting poor; 
'Twill cajole you and control you, it will 
promise you will win, 
It will draw you to destruction with Its 

For the ticker la a tricker : down below its 
glassy top 
There's a waiting and ingratiating maw ; 
In its heartless hollow deep you will hear 
your ducats drop 
As it grabs them with its snaky paper paw. 

Yes, the ticker is a tricker; and the way to 
turn the trick 
Is to leave the crafty creature quite alone ; 
If you dicker with the ticker you'll be play- 
ing with Old Nick, 
A game that has no gaining but a groan. 


[A fable written before the Prohibition 
Amendment was proposed, containing a warn- 
ing apropos of the fact that recent elections 
had made the Prohibition States twenty-four 
in number, and Alaska and the District of 
Columbia in addition.] 

The Donkey and the Elephant were in a des- 
ert land; 

To north and south, to east and west, was 
naught but barren sand. 

The Elephant grew thirsty, and the Donkey 
was the same. 

And the ground was dry beneath them and 
the sky was all aflame. 

And they travelled and they travelled till 
they couldn't travel more ; 

Then they sank to earth a-panting, and they 
thoaghts their days were o'er. 

But the Prohibition Camel lumbered non- 
chalantly by, 

And be calmly cast upon them a commiserat- 
ing eye. 

"If you'd only," said the Camel, "grow a 
stomach like to mine. 

With an extra water-tank or two, you'd find 
it rery line. 

I adriae yon,** said the Camel, "to begin to 

And he left the panting creatures with a 

swagger quite astute. 
*«Ala8 !" exclaimed the Elephant, "Alas I" the 

Donkey groaned. 
**That sage advice comes all too late," the 

arid mammals moaned. 
"For how, without a water-tank, in lands 

without a spring. 
Are we to grow a water-tank, or sprout out 

And the Prohibition Camel gave a mild, sar- 
castic nod. 
As he lumbered o'er the desert with a plod, 

plod, plod. 


Attention, good people ! A baby I'm selling. 
His folks are all tired of his crowing and 

If a price that's at all within reason you'll 

You may have the young rascal, and take 

him away. 
The Mountains have bid every gem in their 

store ; 
The Ocean has bid every pearl on its floor ; 
By the Land we are offered ten million of 

sheep, — 
But we have no intention of selling so cheap ! 
Compared with his value our price is not 

How much for a baby? What offer? Who'll 



So very tall is that young rascal. Ned, 
He cannot stoop to weed my garden bed. 
Nor bend his back to split the kindling wood. 
And as for shovelling coal, — he never could! 

And yet Ned's queerly contradictory frame 
Gayly achieves full many a groundling game, 
Like marbles, leap frog, "mumble peg," — and 

As if the lad were anything but tall ! 


Slow — slow — slow — slow — 

Good things come and bad things go. 

Try to sweep the clouds away, 

Try to speed the flowers of May, 

Hurry on the ocean's tide. 

Bid the mountains run and hide. 

This achieve, but no one can 

Haste the processes of man, 

Gather in and take control 

Of the mighty human soul, 

Bend its action to his will. 

Bid It hasten or lie still. 



CleaoiM' it from the smadffe of wrong, 

Make it beautiful aDd strong. 

CauHe the blesrednesfl to come 

Of the fair millennium. 

He to whom a thousand years 

Clrclinf; vastly through the spheres 

Pass as flies a summer's day. 

He alone has valid sway, 

He alone is artlHan 

Of the processes of man ; 

Patient, patient, endless calm, 

I'nder His almighty arm 

Good things come and bad things go, 

Slow — slow — slow — slow. 


Now he walked on the angry wave, 
Now he sank in the watery grave ; 
Now he rose in triumphant faith. 
Now he fell toward threatening death, 
Peter, the wave man. 

Now he flrmly stood for the Lord, 
Based his life on the living Word, 
8aw in Jesus the Godhead shine. 
Dared to call him the Christ divine, 
Peter, the rock man. 

Now he rebukes Christ in his pride. 
Now he has even his I>ord denied ; 
Now he uses a silly sword, 
Now he shrinks at a maiden's word, 
Peter, the wave man. 

Now he weeps In his agony ; 
Now he listens: "Lovest thou me?" 
Now and for aye, as at Pentecost. 
He stands for the Saviour that once he lost, 
Peter, the rock man. 

Rough old fisherman brotherly dear. 
Near to my weakness, very near. 
Far from your f<illy I would flee. 
Brave with your iKildnexs I would be 
Peter, a rock man ! 


A pine that grew where all the windi Aiaall 
Grew gnarled and crooked ; but because it 

To all its fate erect, 1 think it stands 
Chief in the pleasure garden of its God. 

A ruby formed Its facets in the dark 
Where other growing splendors pressed acroaa 
And marred its perfect ness ; but i>erfectly 
It grew to its conditions, and I think 
The King of Heaven wears it In His crown. 

A man. amid the turmoil of the world. 
The harryings of selflahneas and greed. 

Faintings within and fears and sneers with- 
Lamely and poorly did a deed for God : 
But God, because he measured to the best 
Of narrow lot and poverty of mind. 
I think that God has caught the failure up 
Within the glowing circle of His grace. 
And there transformed it into high success. 

Ob, praise to God, who looks beyond the deed. 
Who measures man by what a man w^ould l»e. 
Who sees a harvest In a blighted stalk. 
Who crowns defeat with His victorious palms. 
And rears upon our marshes of despair 
The thrones and mansions of eternity ! 


The wares flow in. the waves flow out. 
They rise, and then they fall ; 

But I may always go ahead. 
And never back at all. 

The orchard is an empty thing 
W^hen winter crisps the air ; 

But there are golden fruits that I 
May always gladly bear. 

The skies are sometimes bright with sun. 
And sometimes bright with rain ; 

But in my heart the sun may shine 
And clouds attack In vain. 

The world is very wonderful. 

And full of bubbling joy : 
But in a few important points 

it's beaten by a boy ! 


[In honor of the sixty American aoMlera 
who during the World War allowed them- 
selves to t>e Inoculated with trench fever, that 
the disease might be studied and conquered.] 

Not in the glory of battles. 

Not in the cannonades' crash. 
Not where the musketry rattles. 

Not where the signals flash. 
But to the sturdily stoic 

Hospital waiting and woe. 
Thither, with hearts heroic. 

Stoutly our soldiers ga 

There they will charge a foeman 

Armed with a desperate might : 
Pemian nor Gret*k nor Roman 

Had such a foe to fight. 
There in the grim and glooming 

Grip of a living grave. 
There In the heat consuming. 

They will be cheerily brave. 

"Forward against the fever !" 
Thus Is the onset made ; 



Crafty and cruel deceiver 

Lies he in ambuscade. 
There in the horrible shadows, 

There where the spectres are, 
Creeping through twilight meadows, 

There they must wage their war. 

Hall to the new crusaders. 

Genuine knights are these. 
Facing the fiercest invaders. 

Conquering foul disease. 
And. when the final story 

Honors the hero's name. 
Theirs be a grateful glory, 

Theirs be a lasting fame ! 


New England woods are softly fair, 
And many marvels gather then> — 
The flaming bush, the soaring pine. 
The shining birch, the swinging vine; 
But lord of all the varied scene 
I rank the lowly wlntergreen. 

Its glossy little leaves are found 
Close creeping on the humble ground. 
But all the sweetness of the wood. 
Its fragrant qualntness Arm and good, 
Its charms that dazzle and enchant. 
Are centred in the modest plant. 

Those thick and lustrous leaves contain 
The essence of this dear domain. 
Its flavor, kindly, pungent, keen. 
The homely taste of wlntergreen, 
Its flower a Puritanic white, 
Its berry scarlet for delight. 

How sturdily it lifts Its head 
And shows its glowing green and red ! 
How through the winter cold and bare 
It still is fragrant, fresh, and fair. 
And. like Its own New England, knows 
A grace that shines In deepest snows ! 


[Written before the Invention of u success- 
ful alr-ahlp.] 

Where lives he? — that inventive one 

For whom the world is waiting — where? 

The ether's future Stephenson, 
The coming conqueror of the air? 

And has he found the secret yet. 

The solvent thought, whate'er it be? 
May the explorer not forget 

That mystic Open Sesame ! 

And will he sail with mighty wing. 
Or vaat balloon, or whirling fan? 

Or will it be a startling thing 
On some unprecedented plan? 

And when the deed is brought to pass 
And men are taught the way to fly. 

Must all our railroads go to grass 
And ail our commerce seek the sky? 

I do not know ; but ^his I know, — 
Whatever bulk the thought attain. 

It must begin and slowly grow 

From one wee notion in the brain ; 

Some quick idea swiftly caught 
JVnd stoutly held with iron grip 

While patience lalmrs on the thought 
And flrmness ^111 not let it slip. 

For never on a gale of luck 

Shall his flne air-ship come to port ; 
Its keel Ih grit, its sails are pluck, 

The hurricane It dares to court ! 

Its captain, whosoe'er he be. 
Hum f'ount4^d cowardice a sin. 

Has found the air a stormy sea. 

Huh learned to struggle and to win ! 


Woe Is unto me, if I preach not! — 1 Cor. 9: 16. 

He sees one thing, the preacher, king of souls ; 
Sees with a single vision, undlstraught 
By policies or pleasures : sees his (lod 
Lougln;; in pity forth to wretched men ; 
Sees it in trembling, for he knows himself : 
Sees it in courage, for he knows his Uod ; 
Sees It in ugony of brother-love. 
And seeing, speaks. With hush of soul he 

So sure he knows his weakness grasped by 

Not as the braggart, with a smirking feint 
Of worthlessness, looks sideling for applause ; 
Nor as th«» canting bully, bludgeon-voiced, 
Doul>les his fiHty words : nor flabbily, 
A feeble thought limpini; on flaccid phrase; 
Nor like those errant. l»usyl)ody tongues. 
Now chattoring hoavy politics, and now 
Flipping tip-deep In science, now agape 
With poets for the moonshine, and now big 
With tumid half-quotations half-absorbed : 
Not thus will he, the proacher, king of souls. 
Win his large-worthy kingdom, lie will speak 
Forthright and plainly, with a human sense. 
Of coniradeship, y<*t will his thought W drawn 
From ample spacos whero m^n's {*^'t are few. 
He will speak sunnily, yet all aflame. 
He will know doctrine but as moving life. 
And life ns stayed on doetrln«». In the streets 
Ho will pick ni» his sermons ; l»y tho plough. 
In kitchons and in factories : at school. 
Beside the puzzled schoolboy; In the shop. 



Where men are stripped for trade's unending 

And by the solemn couch where all must end. 
And as he walks, in 8lngle, hushed discourse, 
Or where men gather voluble, or where 
The pulpit grunts r. primacy of speech, 
lie has one word ; l>eneath his lightest chat 
Or boldly on the surface^ burning still 
Through all lie says — one word : "Eternity !** 
"Live not for shreds and patches," Is his cry ; 
"Live not for hours and days, but for the 

For that vast reach, time-dwarfing, infinite. 
Beyond the blackened boundary-thread of 

Yours are those royal spaces, yonrs by grace 
Of Christ the Forerunner. Oh, purge your 

Oh, strip your life of hindering heavy weights ! 
Oh, set your faces thither ! There are goods. 
There only. Joy and only Joy is there. 
And there alone, or on the blessed way. 
Be done with brute desires that gnaw them- 
selves ! • 
Be done with lies that do not cheat them- 
selves ! 
Be done with life that only tinsels death ! 
O the far visions. O the foodful wealth 
Where Christ is, and where Christ would 

have you come. 
Follitw me. follow, friends, with shining eyes. 
Heads high, and hearts heroic !" 

Thus the call 
Kings from his pulpit or in byways pleads. 
Changing as fountains infinitely change. 
Yet still the same. And men muMt hear the 

As always words authentic. Men must hear. 
And hear to endless death or endless life. 


A mighty king. long, long ago. 
With volc*» of grief and face of woe 
To his C<»urt Wlxard did complain : 
"Sir Wisard. I am said to reign, 
Hut what with councillors, and hordes 
Of blMhops, JudKeK. generals, lords. 
Prime nilnli(te''M, and thoHe they call 
The IVoplr. l'\t* no right at all 
To rail my llf«' my own. They talk 
of duty, laws and charters. Iialk 
My wlMhes, dog my Mtfps. torment 
.My ev«'ry hour with precedent. 
Statf tnrtics and prerogative. 
Till I would rather die than live. 
1 bid thi'e then. — if .nught I hold 
Of royal power to bid. — be tnild. 
Take thou my crown. I grudg** it not. 
And give me in eichange a lot. 
I can* not how confined it t»e. 
Wherein is absolute sovereignty !" 

Then groaned the wizard sad, but still 
Keceived the crown against his will. 
And swift, with wand and astrolabe, he 
Transformed the king into a baby ! 


Sleepy Granther often thinks 
He must take Just '*forty winks.'* 
Jimmy counted them one day : — 

Pint wink, glasses put away. 
Second wink, upon his head 
Red bandana is outspread. 
Third to tenth winks, by degrees 
Granther settles at his ease 
In his chair. Eleventh wink. 
Granther*s eyes begin to blink. 
Twelfth, he folds his arms, and then 
(Thirteenth) down they go again ! 
Fourteen to twenty. Jimmy said. 
Those were nods of Gran therms head. 
Twenty-one, his head 's at rest. 
Finally, npon his breast. 
Twenty-two to thirty-nine 
(Jimmy's statement, and not mine!) 
Those eighteen, no less, no more. 
Each one was a separate snore. 
Then — the fortieth wink, exact — 
Ciranther woke. And that's a fact ! 


Have you hoard of John Curzon. of Poland? 

A wond«'rfnl ai tlsan. he ! 
A watcnmaker e^iualleil in no land. 

As you. I am sure, will agn>e. 

For the Czar of the Russias. to try him, 
(.^onimand<Hl a watch for his fob. 

And liade that his envoy supply him 
With all he might use in the job. 

So the meHsenger brought somewoo<l-chi|»pinK!t. 

S4»me glass that was smashed in n fall. 
CopiM'r nuIlM and some bits of wire «-llppini;'«. 

And a craoktHl china cup; that wsi* all ! 

John Curzon. this rubbish receivint;. 

Contrived, with no other to aid. 
It is true, though it seems iiast t>elii>\ing.— 

A watch that was |)erfectly madt> : 

The case — it was form(>d of the rhlna. 

The works were patcbrd up from thr rest 
It was worthy a rrr or rrfjina : 

And C^irzon had won in the teMt ! 

80. my lad. with no money and no land. 

And Fate as se%*ere as the i*zar. 
Just think you an> (Linton of Poland. 

And conquer — from things as they are ! 



The tr™» are bIIII ; lb,. Iinre cold branrh-B lie 

AEaiDKt n nnltlni; sky. 

I.lBbt cverrwbUT, lint choBlly light thnt aecma 

Tb<- mlie of dicnniH ; 

AdiI cvcrjwhfie n liush Ihut Hecma to bark 

At the J»orn-n>- o( the dark. 

fields, whlte-Bheeted, atBolnte and dumb,— 

It vou knCK Khar, to comt! 


any wordH are llcbtl.v to Rued : 
Only coB-ai'ds mind (bem. 
ppotiiiDltlen nrp -Iniil"'; 
KouM luurselt and Hud thom t 

PaKt Ik iinst. ibc chance In gone? 

ni. and Tnllow aller ! 
Jtaiiy a nolile rniv Ik wod 

Spite of BD^vrs and laughtpr. 

Rut th* moat are' bidlne. 
■ra the ntitrb ha* rauKht are tbi^f ; 
Take tbvm from Ibe nldlnKl 

Aien'l llifre Iprk Iwblnd IbeinJ 
Boldly run. nor niunr tbe coat! 
S[ until yoii tlnd tbem : 




Wbeb the doctor calls the imrgeoo, ancT the 
surgeon says you must, 
And it cannot be put off a single day. 
And the ambulance will come, will be here in 
half an hour, — 
What then do you do or say? 

There's no time to call a lawyer and no 
chance to make a will ; 
There's no time to talk things over here 
and there. 
To ask folks' forgiveness for the ugly words 
and deeds. 
To try to smooth your life to something 

There is clothing to be changed, and a small 

valise to pack. 

And the ambulance arrives before you think. 

And they whirl you off to the etherising room. 

Where you breathe the world to nothing, 

and then sink. 

Ob. the surgeon is a blessing, though a bless- 
ing in disguise. 
And we learn, learn, learn in his school : 
Not to put things off, not to live for Number 
Not to be — an— everlasting — fool ! 


A very b<»nevolent boy, O ho ! 

A very benevolent boy ! 
He said. "Oh. 1 wish I had silver and gold ! 
I'd All a big house till no more it could hold 

With every nice candy and toy I" 

This exce<'dingly generous boy ! 
"And my Christmas dollar? O pshaw! don't 
you see? 
I'll have to keep that to buy candy for me !** 

ThU very benevolent boy ! 


Two men thrre are in presence of a need. 
Tht> man of method and the man of de<*d. 

Th«* mcthofl man deltates the why and how. 
And tbouKhtful furrows ornament his brow. 

lie Ktudtes books, and long he meditates 
On wli*»» proce<lure«. while the duty — waits. 

What mi»n hav#» done he passen in review. 
The nkilitMl. the crude, the ancient and the 

He rlasslfli's the plans and weighs them each. 
And learns the varied lessons that they teach. 

Perhaps he writes a book, and forthwith he 
Is reckoned as a High Authority. 

Then turns he to the waiting tawk, but, lo ! 
The man of deed has done it long ago. 


Old Sorrel straightens up her ears 

When papa takes the reins. 
And doesn't own to half her years 

When papa takes the reins. 
Now dogs, look out for Dying heels ! 
And boys, look out for whirling wheels ! 
Old Sorrel like a filly feels 

>Vhen papa takes the reins. 

And mother screams, "She'll run away !" 

When papa takes the reins : 
And aunt, she cries, "Be careful, pray !" 

When papa takes the reins. 
"Oh. let me out !" shrieks slKter Beth. 
While papa laughs (below his breath) ; 
The women folks are scared to death 

When papa takes the reins. 

You'd better think the fences dy 

When papa takes the reins ! 
Not many teams will pass us by 

When papa takes the reins. 
The folks come out and look at us. 
And Mrs. Prim says. "Scandalous!" 
And oh, but it Is glorious 

When papa takes the reins ! 


Far away where space is lonely. 

In the ether driftlngs far. 
With a twilight glimmer only. 
Shone a star. 

All the lordlier suns about her 

Shot their Angers In her face ; 
Shook their flaming l<K'ks to scout h<>r 
Mo4lest grace. 

rnderneatb those firry flnK*'rs 

She reflecte<l bark a Hmll«». 
As. the hot sun gone. Htlll lingers 
Light awhile. 

Came the day of all the eons. 

i'ame the thrones that klngliest sr«». 
Searching through the ImuVm dominions 
For a star. 

Passing with swift eyes and holy 
Those proud suns vainglorious. 
"Come." said they to her, the lowly. 
"Come with us." 

Sped they through the starry mazes. 
Fleet as thoughts of God they sped. 



With the growing of all graces 
On her head ; 

With the glowing and the growing 

Of a soft, Imperial light. 
Fed within her by the flowing 
Of that flight; 

Till, the herald of the era 
Of God's blessed Avatar, 
Flamed she forth upon Judsa, — 
Bethlehem's star ! 


There is not a word in my tongue but lo, O 
Lord, Thou knowest it altogether. — Pa. 139: 4. 

O the words in my tongue 

That never get out ! 
O the praises unsung, 

And the cowardly doubt ! 
O the hissings of spite. 

And the moans of despair. 
Secrets shouts of delight, 

Secret whispers of prayer ! 
What need has Thine ear 

Of tongue- twisted word? 
Vnborn sounds Thou dost hear 

Altogether, O Lord ! 
As the words from my tongue 

On the pulsating air 
Widen out, ever young. 

Ever heard, everywhere. 
So these words in my tongue — 

To my doom or reward — 
Aye are uttered and sung 

In the heart of my Lord ! 

[Written during the World War.] 

We hate war's horrible hell. 

The waste and the want and the woe, 
The burst of the blinding shell. 

The craft of the treacherous foe. 
We hate contemptible lies. 

We hate the murderous hand. 
The flaming fury that flies 

From the heart of a desperate land. 

W> love the portals of peace 

That open and opulent shine, 
Fair plenty's happy increase. 

And brotherhood all divine. 
We love the bonds of the past, 

The Germany undlstraught, 
And ever we hold us fast 

To its high and heroic thought. 

Our love and our hate are one. 
And our hate must have Its day„ 

Till the love that hate has undone 
Shall And its ultimate way. 

And only at what we hate 

Is the might of our passion thrown^ 

And it never will be too late 
For our love to come to its own. 


As here I sit, the swaying of the trees. 
The streaming window, the imploring sky* 
Are foils to show how fortunate am I, — 

More ghosts that chatter at my indoor ease. 

Outside, the scowling plodder only sees 

A splashing eave, a cart that flounders by, 
II ow deeply weltering the pavements lie. 

And how a horse has slipped upon his knees. 

Not from the study or the midst of trade 
Is God's great purpose ever fully known : 
Lo, I have seen the rain within the wood ! 

Uow pleasant music on the leaves it made. 
How grateful was the brooklet's undertone. 
And how the thirsty ground declared it 
good ! 


Once, in heathen Madagascar, to the mis- 
sionary band 
Came a message full of peril to the mission 

and the land ; 
From the savage queen this message, borne 
by envoys stem and gruff : 
"Back, sirs, to the land you came from ; you 
have taught us long enough." 

Then the missionaries pleaded with the en- 
voys of the queen : 
"Many things remain to teach you, much you 
have not heard or seen ; 

Doctrines of the highest import still are left 
for us to speak ; 

Still remain the tongues of Scripture, holy 
Hebrew, sacred Greek ; 

History, science, arts of beauty, — ah, not 
half our work is done ! 

Let the gracious (lueen permit us to com- 
plete what we've begun." 

Such the missionaries* message to the Mada- 
gascar court. 

Promptly came this royal answer, very plain 
and very short : 
"We care not for Greek and Hebrew ; they 
are far beyond our sc(»pe. 

Can you teach us something useful? Can 
you teach us to make soap?" 

Truly a perplexing question ! Text-books 



Memories of college studies, would not fit 

the case at all. 
Whispered they to one another : What to 

do? or what to say? 
"Give us but a week,'* they answered ; and 

the envoys went away. 

Then came seven days of trial ; surely seven 

days unique 
In all missionary annals ; quite a Robinson 

Crusoe week. 
Ashes of all woods, uniting In a score of 

different lyes. 
Fats of many a beast, devoted to the holy 

Pans and kettles, cans and dishes of all 

fashion and all size. 
Straight were pressed into the service of 

the anxious enterprise. 
Now too weak and now too strong, too much 

lye or too much fat. 
Now too harsh and now dark-colored, want- 
ing this and lacking that, — 
When in all the ages ever were such tremors 

and such hope 
And such eager prayers united. Just to 

make a cake of soap? 

But at length, the week completed, came the 

envoys from the queen. 
And the missionaries fact>d them w^lth a 

glad, triumphant mien ; 
For they carried, smooth and shining, white 

and pure, a perfect cake 
Of the best soap that a mortal ever yet had 

grace to make ! 

You may talk of your Sapollo, Pear's, and 

Ivory, and the rest. 
But this Madagascar product 1 will vouch 

for as the best ; 
For that single cake of aoap washed away 

the mission's fears. 
Won for Christ's life-giving gospel respite 

rich of five long years. 
Scoured full many a heathen soul until It 

gleanuMl with heavenly light. 
(*leanse<l the soil for schools and churches 

and for houxehuids pure and bright. 
And became, though but a cake of soap, the 

stable cornerstone 
Wliereupon a Christian people like a temple 

has upgrown. 
Through those five years so established on 

the everlasting iSood 
That the devil's fiery onset it triumphantly 

Honor to the Christian knights who would 

not yield to servile fear. 
But seised the sting of Circtimstancc and 

UMe<l It for a spear! 
All h<Mior to their ready brain and their 

courageous hope; 

And honor, not the least of all. to that fine 
cake of soap ! 


A tender-hearted maiden, in the late.<4t fash- 
ion dressed, 
Rebuked a wicked urchin who was (tearing 

off a nest : 
•*F!e! Fie: You cruel fellow : What? Ne^i. 

and eggs, and all? 
I think I hear the mother-bird in yonder 

thicket call. 
I think I see her pretty breast a-trcmble 

like a leaf. 
I'ut back the nest, you naughty boy. or Hhn 

will die of grief !" 
"Oh, no, she won't," the bad l>oy said ; "«h>> 

doesn't care for that ! 
She doesn't mind such little things, /or »h*: 

is on your hatT' 


A kindly old musician named DeWitt Alonxo 

Has taught the newsboys in his town to cry 

their wares by note. 
They sing the last edition to the strains of 

"Bonnie I>oon." 
And celebrate the accidents with voicrs all in 

The ^saes and the tenors roam In coupl*>« 

through the street. 
And serenade with sweet duets the trsvellers 

they meet. 
Their sales are twice as many as they ever 

were before. 
For the buying of a paper is the recognise<l 

encore I 


The night Is long. Init long Thy mercies are : 
The night is dark, but oh. Thy fac*> l« 
bright ! 
Through heavy clouds Thy love breaks likf a 
And lays a l>enedictlon on the night. 

The weary watches lose their weariness 

As I take thought- t«N) tardy thought — of 

And all the dreary burdens that opprt**!*. 
Thy pity lifts, and leaves my spirit fr*H> 

ll<iw good Thou art. unutterably klml ' 
How patient, endleaa patient with Thy 
child ! 

And I to all Thy loveliness how blind. 

Against Thy waiting pureness how defllfnl ! 



Amid tbeiip frlciidlj' darknesses I creep 

Anhamod and worn to Thine enfolding 

Ttiy pardon gathers round me like a sleep. 
Thy tender broodiugs comfort my alarms. 

The day is coming. What it coldly brings 
I know not, and no longer do I care. 

Deep in my heart my Father's blessing sings. 
And all Uis nights, and all Ilia days, are 


How strange that He, fount of a million 

Whose every sentence bloomed in lil»raries. 
Should only write some words upon the 

Some fleeting words the rain soon washed 

away ! 

What did He write before the Pharisees, 
Before that sinning woman doomed to death? 
Stooping, and with His finger for a pen. 
What did He write upon that holy ground? 

I think He wrote the sins of human-kind ! 
Their falseness and their cruelty and pride, 
Their passion and their selfishness and hate. 
The sins of all those scribes and Pharisees ! 

I think He also wrote the loye of Qod ! 
The love of God that flies to every woe. 
And never asks a merit, but a need ; 
The love of God that lives upon a cross ! 

As one by one they read the tracM words, 
EZach his own sins, and each the love of God, 
How silently and shamed they went away. 
Till Jesus and the woman stood alone ! 

Ah, Master, had I choice of all the books 
That human wit and wisdom ever wrote. 
Worthless were all beside the memory 
Of those few transient words upon the ground ! 


Then the Lord put forth his hand and 
touched my mouth. — Jeremiah. 

Thy hand, the central point of power ! 

My mouth, so poor and weak ! 
But touch it, I^rd, and in that hour 

I shall be strong to speak. 

My tongue shall thrill with eager stress. 

Nor ever lag again ; 
And, touched by Go<rs almightiness, 

Shall touch the hearts of men. 


[Written for a Guvernment bond campaign 
during the World War.] 

Buy a bond to break a bond. 

Buy to ransom others; 
Buy a bond to break a bond 

ITettering your brothers ! 

Chains are cleft by golden swords. 

Dollars conquer legionH ; 
Silver ships our banners bear 

To the farthest regions. 

Purses hold the lives of men, 

Money moans decision ; 
Golden ea^rles lift the soul 

To the heights of vision. 

Buy a bond to break a bond. 

Buy to ransom others ; 
Buy a bond to break a bond 

Fettering your brothers ! 


A second Holland stolen fiom the sea 

By a giant in his glee. 

It lies, a tumbled stretch of hasty sand 

Thrown by that pilfering hand. 

And evermore the injured, angry main 

Would get it back again. 

Gnawing and tearing with a savage roar 

At this unlawful shore. 

For twenty leagues the bared, uplifted arm 

Confronts the ocean's harm. 

Forth reaching from a continent, it braves 

Whatever tempest raves. 

Yet still, beset with strifes that never cease, 

Within, it harbors peace. 

And hill and hollowed valley, mile on mile. 

Greet us with tender smile. 

Here lie the ancient villages demure. 

Secluded and secure. 

Wrapped in the shimmering historic base 

Of gentle Pilgrim days. 

Here Indian and Hessian, strangely tame. 

Forget their olden fame : 

Here, mystically drawn from overseas. 

Are swarthy Portuguese. 

Serene, the wildernesses stretch away 

With woodland glories gay. 

Blue-berried, fragrant, thick with stunted 

Moorland and forest, both. 
Deep in their solitudes the hermit lake 
Is fringed with birch and brake 
And through the stillneas, far from all abodes. 
Wind dim and silent roads. 



The rranl>orry, in \ovv\ frultttl (tHfls, 

A spicy liarvoHt yi«*IUM. 

And all the sprlnKtinie giadoii are odoruus 

With virKin arlmtiiM. 

Above the taiif^ied reach of brier and brush 

Hymns loud the holy thrush. 

While to a hidden pool, umbraj^eous, clear, 

PluOK^s the thirsty deer. 

From these romantic realms how faint and far 

The modern turmoils are ! 

What quietness the meadowy uplands hold. 

Bequeathed from days of old ! 

And how, in these hushed woods so seldom 

One tranquil voice is heard — 
From these quaint ways the Pilf rim feet have 

trod : 
**Be still, and know your (Jod !" 


He Is coming, brothers, coming, 

As the eagi r seasons roll ; 
I can hear the axles humming 

As he hurries to his goal. 
With the impetus of sages. 

With the weight of common day. 
With the rush of all the ages 

He is speeding on his way. 
See his coming, aee and hear it. 

As the sullen shadows flee 
In the dawn of brother-spirit. 

Forward-faced Democracy ! 

Gather up the ancient symbols. 

Crowns and aceptres. thrones and kingM ; 
Like a woman's worn-out thimltles 

Toss away the tarnished thlngx. 
L4ft on high the solid, real 

Weights and vaiuea, customs, laws; 
Fly the flags of the ideal 

And the common pe<iple*s cause ; 
Sweep aside the Idols hoary 

With a bnse antiquity. 
And exalt his humble glory. 

King of love. Democracy ! 

There shall bi* no servile gating 

On the glitter of a lonl ; 
There rhall \h» a ju«t ai»praUIng. 

There Khali Ik* a just award : 
By the \mm\ of honest lal>or. 

Ily the bond of honest rest, 
NelghlKir shall be joine<l with neighlmr 

In the S4>eking of the l>est. 
There shall lie no brutal blindness. 

Greed and glut no more shall be 
lo his rule of loTlng-kindness, 

Brothersouled Democracy ! 

WearyheartiHl with the waiting, 
l'tM>r and tiurdened and forlorn. 

See, beyond the eastern grating. 

See, the l>etter day is i>orn ! 
In the crimson glare of battle. 

In the crash of mine and shell. 
As foundatlon| rock and rattle, 

See the dawning miracle ! 
Ix>, the last of lll>erations ! 

I^, the crowning Jublh^e ! 
Blessed Sunrise of the nations. 

Hail, all hail. Democracy ! 


A dainty dog had chanced to note 
The breakfast of a greedy goat. — 
Half-rotten grass, a shocking pile. 

''Fier said the dog; "what wretched style! 
Good taste demands, you clownish l>east, 
A dish to eat from, at the least. 
And as for food, that garbage foul 
Wonld even make a camel scowl. 
Would make a very buixard groan. 

Would " Here the gcMit laid bare a bone. 

Which when our dainty dog had spied. 

**Your pardon, friend I" the critic cried; 

"I'm quite near-sighted, neighbor mine. 
I see your meal is fair and flne. 
Invite me. pray, with you to dine !" 


With stupid searchings of the mind 
My Saviour I had sought to And. 
With telescopes of leaves of iMMiks 
And spectacles that made me blind. 

I saw. and vaguely seemed to know, 
A man that wandereil to and fro 
And did fair deeds and said wise words 
In Syria, centuries ago. 

But all my life was loneliness. 
And Kins 1 did not dare c<»nfess 
l>nrken«'<l my spirit, dully cbtHTed 
By hopes I did not dare caress. 

So. as I stunible<1 on my way. 
I t'Hme. one heav**n-ap|N)int(>4i day. 
To when* the sombre Mount of Pain 
Lifted Its barrier of gray. 

Harsh the asct^nt. and woeful steep. 
And many a gulf yawned Ulnvk ntnl df^ep. 
And many a S4'rp4*nt hisseil disnia.v. 
Till, deadly worn. I fell aNieep. 

I slept far through the horrid night. 
When, soft u|M)n a growing light 
My slow eyes opening. startle<i. saw 
The Vision that rewards all sight. 



It was the Man of Palestine ; 
But as the sun Uis face did shine, 
And all ills raiment was as snow 
Such as no fuller could refine. 

And lo ! He sat beside me then, 
His hand on mine, the way of men. 
And showed me all the path of life, 
And that New Life beyond my ken ; 

Till all the air was strangely warmed, 
And all the mountainside transformed. 
And all the fortress of my soul 
His conquering gentleness had stormed. 

Then as the sunrise glimmering red 
That brighter glory overspread, 
From out the shadow came a voice. 
And "This is my dear Son," it said. 

Ah, I would willingly remain 
Upon the awful Mount of i*ain. 
To see the Man of Syria 
And hear His gracious voice again. 

But now I care not to explore 

An ancient time, a foreign shore. 

For Christ, my Lord, my Life, my Friend, 

Is by my side, for evermore ! 


I know it all is waiting. 

The wisdom and delight. 
Rich glories of Isaiah, 

Ezekiel's Pisgah sight, 
Splendors of Jeremiah, 

And Moses' calm address, 
The towering flames of Amos, 

Hosea's tenderness. 

I know that I can reach them 

In half a minute's time, — 
The teaching of the sages. 

The prophet's ode sublime. 
The wars of mighty monarcbs. 

The Journeyings of Paul, — 
But the Bible I remember 

Is my Bible, after all. 

"Let not your heart be troubled" ; 
How often to my soul 
These word.s havo brought the healing 
Of comfort and control ! 
*The Lord, the Lord 's my shepherd !" 
What strength the phrase has borne 
When I hav«» faced the tempest. 
Unfriended and forlorn ! 

What hope in dire temptation 
Is that "He knows our frame" ; 

What Joy the "whatsoever" 
We ask in Jesus' name ! 

What cheer In hours of weakness 
Repeating steadily : 
*'I can do all things, all things. 

Through Christ, who strengthens me I'* 

The affluent Twelfth of Romans, 

The regal ninetieth Psalm, 
The hero-list In Hebrews, 

And First John's brothcr-balni ; 
That chapter, "Love the greatest" ; 

That chapter, ••No more pain," — 
To these my memory hastens. 

And never seeks in vain. 

When foes are hot against me 

With musket and with blade,'* 
The battle high around me 

And I am sore dismayed, 
*Tis not the crowded armory 

That ^ves me strength to stand, 
And come ofT more than victor. 

But — the weapon in my hand. 

Some day — and thus the study 

Of day by day shall tend — 
I hope to know my Bible 

From blessed end to end ; 
To range its utter limit. 

Vast peak and hidden nook ; 
And the Bible I remember 

Shall t>e the whole dear Book ! 



The highest by the lowest waits alway : 
The mountains by the valleys, heaven's arch 
Above the crowding pettiness of earth 
Serene and holy, purifying floods 
Beside the festering caverns of the marsh. 
Cathedrals neighboring hovels, and the stretch 
Of endless ag«s past each dot of time. 
Extend your hand from whatsoever place. 
Though close and cramped by poverty and 

And you shall touch the best of all that is. 
The Kingdom Is at hand ! Its robes of state 
Are rustling — you may hear them — ^Just be- 
This hindering wall of loneliness and grief. 
Its herald Just approached you, well disguised 
In ragged raiment solle<l by work and wear. 
Its treasury behind that closet door 
Is full and shining. Close above your head 
And ready to your reach its sceptre floats. 
A step, and you may enter its broad lands. 
A step, and you may sit upon its throne. 
A word, and all Its armies leap to you. 
For God is pressing man insistently 
As any beggar, thrusting forth His good 
In all but main compulsion. "Oh," He groans, 
"That I might force my children to be 
blessed !" 


StMdllT ruin (br mcdltallTC now. 

Or ntrulljr. In Middfo ipurlii at whllp: 

Now nwdlr drlvrn tliniugb a raiInK D1|ht, 
Nuw paclnR likr a purt. rapt and alow ; 
But rvrr.  (hr ilaly alarm rlomla jtu. 

n> louk upuD  world or ■III! di-llKht. 

No lincrrlnR token or thmt ralllDii Hlitbt, 
A riitt^ or lufYDt prmcr op all twUiw. 
I prir Ibat thiia (h« cloilnji of dij llfr 

Uaj' ab)ar In bolj wbltr and quIrlnvH, 
WhalrTpr paaitun or atihorral alrir* 

Uar tnr mr now with unrrlrarlnjt atma. 
atorv. and wlrld jaur Idltpr 

knir* : 

nltlDR prac* I 


A wladiii^.panr : bar* booRba acalnal tbr ak; : 
How b"ldlr Inlrfi-alp (br branrhra Up; 
Wbal prodlRlr* nf taarj ! wbal a wpallb 
ur pupi color and of •rulplund braltb : 

Ab, imMlaa. ab, RapbaH. AnRrln. 
And all Ihp otbrr aitlal-ciidi wp know. 
l-oor la your bpal hpaldp (bat liripd ranr 
(If any liouik throvih any wlodow-iwav. 




They sent my forest to a paper-mill. 

My forest, lifted solemnly and still 

For skies to brood and morning sun to kiss, 

Now torn to pulp and flattened into this — 

This endless mass of paper, smudged with ink. 

And flung abroad to men that will not think. 

Instead of sweet green leaves, this dingy 

white ; 
Instead of bird-songs and the pure delight 
Of sturdj' trunk and loving shadowy bough. 
The l)erry glints, the asters — nothing now 
But crumpled pages hurled beneath a train. 
Or sodden in a gutter by the rain. 

Ah, when, thou monstrous Press, thou mighty 

When wilt thou bear thee worthy of thy 

source ? 
When, in the glad remembrance of the wood. 
Wilt thou be soundly sweet and stanchly good. 
Fragrant and pure and masterfully free. 
And calmly strong as thine own parent tree? 


Said the Owl : "It's a marvel ! I never have 

Of such a gigantic, impossible bird." 

Said the Vulture: "Its wings are of awk- 
ward design. 

But as big as a hundred, a thousand, of 

Said the Swallow : "It's one of the funniest 

For often I've seen it with two pairs of 


Said the Thrush : "What a clatter and whir 

are its cries ! 
And it won't sing a note except when it 


Said the Eagle: "It climbs most amasingly 

I've met it a mile or more up in the sky." 

Said the Buzzard: "It soars with a beauti- 
ful grace. 

And it curves and it dives at a wonderful 

Said the Duck : "I have seen one afloat on 

the sea. 
That rose from the water exactly like me." 

Said the Hawk: ''It's astounding! Again 

and again 
I've seen the bird capture and carry off — 

men !" 

"But sometimes it tumbles." the Whippoor- 

wiU said, 
"And lies on the ground like a bundle of 


"And one," said the Crane, "with a terrible 
Exploded, and fell, all aflre, to the ground." 

"Dear me !" said they all, "what a puzzling 
It's the queerest of creatures that fly in 
the air!" 


My plenty means another's grievous need. 

So close we live to margins of despair. 

So harried by the waiting wolves of care. 
That others hunger if I over-feed. 
That others ghastly fail as I succeed. 

And bend to burdens as I lightly fare. 

And go in rags with each flne coat I wear. 
And with each Joy of mine acutely bleed. 
Not thus, O God ! not thus is Thy design. 

Whose lakes reflect the beauty of the trees. 
Whose blessings so are mate<l. line by line. 

As clouds to meadows, mountains to the 
That all thy creatures at one table dine. 

And all are blest In brotherly degrees. 


White faces, O my sisters! White faces, O 
my brothers! 
We who loathe the House of Pain a long 
and bitter while. 
Well we know the cruel stabs that morphine 
briefly smothers. 
Well we know the subtle aches that slay 
the brightest smile. 

Some of us came crashing here In one red. 
awful minute ; 
Some of us crept shrinkingly. reluctant 
yard on yard ; 
Some have left the dreary Houkc. and hardly 
were they in it ; 
Some have grown cemented here, all vitre- 
ous and hard. 

None of us came willing here, oh, none of us 
came willing; 
All of us, with all our hearts, we hate the 
House of Pain ; 
Hate it to the point of blows and to the point 
of killing; 
All of us would wrench away nor see it 
once again. 

And yet, O drawn white faces ! we hear men's 
witless droning. 



Hear them prate of lessons, of warninpi 

worn to shretls. 
Hear them hint of Kood from ill, talk of 

pain'K atoning. 
Draw their pretty parables — and leave us 

on our IhmIh. 

Weakly we are silent, or yield a weak as- 
. sentinf? : 
To our hearts the IIoum<> of I*uin Is l»ad 
and only bad. 
Savage, torturing, unwise, unwearied, unre- 
Crushing down and crushing down. Infinitely 

I'ould we leave the HouKe of Pain, pitiful 
white faces. 
Find ourselves enfranchised to but one day 
of cheer. 
Leap a day and sing a day in (iod's blest 
sunny places. 
We should learn more lessons than endless 
ages here. 

Men have made the House uf Pain, built it of 
their follies. 
Heavy stone on heavy Htune through dark- 
ling lives on lives ; 
Built it of their ignorance, their hates and 
melancholies : 
Built It of the fear that shrinkM and of the 
greed that thrives. 

God has made the meadows, and (Sod has 
made the mountains. 
Cfod has made the mystery and marvel of 
the sky ; 
God has charged with Hprlnging health the 
air, the sea, the fountaiuH. 
God has oramnuHl with eti«taHi«'s all the 
birds that Hy. 

GimI built not the House of Tuln, not a course 
or corner. 
Not the least grim fraguit>nt of the mortar 
In Its walls ; 
G(mI is str«*ngth and perfettnt^sM, the Glad- 
some, the Adonier ; 
Go<l abhors th«> lloui(c> of Pain and wearies 
till it falls. 

Tear it down, oh, t«>ar it down, men who 

slnne<] to build it ! 
Tear the last gray granite from its fanten- 

IngH of Woe. 
Free the sad whit«> faccH that age on age 

have filled it. 

I<eave It all a cnimliling heap where silent 
llxanls go. 

White faces. O white faces. It will not be to- 
morrow ; 

Still for us the House of Pain a weary. 

weary while. 
Still for us the racking fear and still th*-^ 

hopeless sorrow. 
Still for us the agonies that torture and 


But Health is moving onward, and teaching, 
teaching, teaching; 
Some tme here is listening, and some one 
listening there ; 
Kindly she, and patient, and tenderly l>ese4K*h- 
Ah. her ways are pleasant and wonder- 
fully fair ! 

Some day, not in our day. sh«> will have won 
her legions; 
Some day, not in our day. she will begin to 
Pray, O poor white faces, and watch the 
brightening regions ; 
Walt and wait and suffer, still In the 
House of i*ain. 

things: TiiiN(is: things! 

Things! Things! Things! 
On the tables, on the door. 
Tucked away behind the door. 
On the aheives and on the chairs. 
Dangerously on the stairs. 
Bureaus crammed and closets filled. 
Boxes packfHl and l>oxes spilled. 
Bundles everywhere you go. 
Heaps and piles and overflow 

Of things, things, things ! 

Things ! Things ! Things ! 
Things of value, worthless trash. 
Things preserved or gone to smash. 
Ancient things or things Just Iwught, 
Common things and things far-sought. 
Things you mean to throw away. 
Things you ho|»e to uMe some day. 
Cellar, attic, all lH>tw«>i>n, 
One exasp«>rating scene 

Ot things, things, things! 

Things ! Things ! Things ! 
Things that take our precious time. 
Hold us from the life subiiuie. 
Things that only gather dust. 
Things that rot and things that rust. 
Things that mould and things that freexe. 
Things that horlKir foul diseasi>. 
Things that mock uh and d«'fy 
Till at last we grimly die 

Of things, things, things ! 

Things! Things! Things! 
I^t me cease to be their fool ! 
I^t me fly their crafty rule! 



Let me with unsparing knife 
Cut their canker from my life ! 
Broad and clear an€t all serene 
Let me make my mansion clean. 
Now and evermore to be 
Calm, unfretted, grandly free 
From things, things, things! 


I like the little poems 

That hide in little books. 

Waiting for little snatches 
In little, cozy nooks. 

They mind me of the robins. 
With fragrant whifTs of song. 

Far dearer than Beethoven, — 
But that is very wrong I 

Perhaps if life in ordered 
Continuance would run. 

Not now a bit of shadow 
And now a bit of sun, — 

Perhaps I might, if living 
Were epic-long and wide. 

Care less for little poems 
In little books that hide. 

How was bis life a thing abhorred 
When that pure Life appeared ! 

Down to a dwarf he shrank away 
In sorrow and in shame. 

He owned his sins that very day, 
i^nd bore the heavy blame. 

But as he rose before the crowd, 

(A little man, alack!) 
Confessed his guilt and cried aloud 

And gave his plunder back, 
I think he stood a giant then 

As angels truly scan. 
And no one ever thought again 

He was a little man. 


Zacchieus struggled with the crowd ; 
A little man was he. 
"Vermin !" he muttered half aloud, 
"I'll make them honor me. 
Ah, when the taxes next are due, 

1*11 tower as is meet : 
This beggarly, ill-mannered crew 
Shall cower at my feet." 

Zaccheus climbed the sycomore 

(He was a little man). 
And as he looked the rabble o'er 

He chuckled at the plan. 
**I get the thing I want." he said, 
"And that is to be tall. 
They think me short, but by a head 
I rise above them all." 

"Zacchsus, come ! I dine with you," 

The famous Rabbi cried. 
Zaccheus tumbled into view 

A giant in his pride. 
He strutted mightily before 

That silly, gaping throng; 
You'd think him six feet high or more. 

To see him stride along. 

Zacchfeus listened to the Lord, 
And as he listened, feared : 


[If any one cares, proof that the tady of 
Roseneck (Ros'-en-eck, please) did actually 
do (A. D. 1499) the exploit herein set forth 
may be seen sedately written in "The His- 
torians' History of the World," Vol. XV., 
pagre 613.] 

It's a merry song of the blustering days when 

troopers were rough and raw. 
And armies knew naught of the hindering 

ways of international law. 
For 'twas Ho ! to the sword ! and Ho ! to the 

spear ! and Up, my lads, and away ! 
And woe to the foe that came blundering 

near the glittering, gallant array. 
And there wasn't a chemist to cut them in 

half with explosives out of a book. 
And there wasn't a wireless telegraph to tell 

the road that they took. 
And the cannon they trundled were aimed by 

men and not by a patented rack. 
And they didn't go up in balloons to ken the 

enemy's bivouac! 
And 'twas hand to hand in a decent style, 

with a spirit light and free; 
For a cannon that carried half a mile was a 

wonderful thing to see! 

The Swiss were abroad in those gallant days, 

and looking for German gore. 
And many a hamlet they left ablaze, and cas- 
tles — a dozen or more. 
But one of the castles gave them pause, a 

castle lordly and fair. 
And stoutly they pressed the siege, because 

their bitterest foe was there. 
Yes, there was the Baron of Roseneck whom 

the Swiss had been seeking long : 
And ah, might the onset triumphantly wreck 

that enemy bold and strong ! 
So they battered and hammered and shouted 

and blazed in a style the reverse of meek. 
And the very Old Henry persistently raised 

for the greater part of a week. 
Till at last — at last — It was perfectly plain, 

and the boldest man could see 



That further renlRtance wag wholly vain, and 
foolish as foolish could be. 

So the Germaos asked for the victors* terms, 
and waited iu anxious dread 

While the Swiss passed doom on the con- 
quered worms, and these were the* words 
they said : 

**You may all go free, if you leave straight- 
way : and, lest you should wholly lack. 

As much of your goods you may carry away 
as you can, upon your back. 

But the Baron of Roseneck alone la barred 
from our mercy free : 

By the forfeit of life must he atone for all his 

Ah, then in the castle was tumult of mind, 

and puzzles a sage to tax : 
Just vhat of their assets to leave behind, 

and what to put on their backs. 
This silver goblet? this doublet rare? this 

dress that has gowned a bride? 
And the more they delmte and discuss and 

compare, the more they cannot decide. 
But the trumpet sounds an Impatient blast, 

for the victors will not wait long. 
And forth from the castle gate at last there 

pours a reluctant throng. 
Matron and maid and scullion and knight go 

stumbling along the road. 
Each struggling away, with main and might, 

t>eneath a mountainous load. 
The Hwiss I(M)k on at the cavalcade, and many 

a man Is grim 
A-tbinking huw much of that wealth bad 

made a suitable pack for him. 
But now, but now, at the end of all, who 

staggers across the moat. 
Who. with the face where the roses fall, and 

who with the snowy throat? 
Hweet Is the fa(v that the roses deck, and 

glorious Is her pack. 
For It Is the Ijidy of Iloseneck, with the 

Baron upon her l»ack ! 
No geniM (»f all her glittering store, no luces 

or Kllks has she : 
She tiahns the Baron, nor asks for more; 

the whole of her goods is he ! 

Then loudly shouti><| thf gallant Kwiss a|>- 

plauding the wifely d<'(Nl. 
And thi*y pressed the lady's band to kiss, and 

graiittHl the wt'll-earni'd mee<l. 
'MJo f n«e !" they sbouti><l, '"and not alone, but 

take tb«' Baron as well. 
And nirry with you whatever you own to 

gniee tbo form of a belle." 
The Baniii dismoiinte<l. and quickly the two, 

their Imeks welghtnl wealthily down. 
The rb<H*rlng ranks of the KwIss passed 

through, nor nwt a tbr«*atenlng frown ; 
And many a gallant turned bis bead to watch 

thi*ni trudging awa>. 

And many a trooper sighing said on many 

an after day, 
**Oh, would that the fates to me assigned. — 

oh, would that I owned, alack ! 
A wife so brave, and a wife so kind, and a 

wife with such a back !*' 


A happy old hen met a discontented duck. 

Cluck ! cluck ! Quack ! quack ! quack ! 
8aid he, "I always have the very worst of 

Qnack ! quack ! quack !" 
Said she, "Of happiness 1 never lack ! 

Cluck! cluck! cluck!" 

*'But what do yon do when It rains all day? 

Quack ! quack ! quack !" 
"I And a cozy corner and there I stay ! 

riuck! cluck! cluck!" 

"And what ^o you do when the sun Is hot ': 

Quack ! quack ! quack !" 
"My chicks and 1 And a shady siH>t ! 

Cluck! cluck! cluck!" 

**And what will you do when you're kilbil to 
be eaten? 

Quack ! quack ! quack !*' 
**ril make a potple that can't b*> bratfu ! 

Cluck! cluck! cluck!" 


**I think that lovr *s a proper noun." said 

Miss Amelia Gay ; 
"And man 's another, never mind what f<H<I 
grammarians say. 
And chmrch^ and mini»ter, and flourrm, aind 

orf/oit, b<7t'«. and (foicn. 
And ring and nervice, which of tbetu* Ih n« t 

a proper noun? 
If th4*se are not right proper noiinn. won't 

somi* one tell me. pray. 
Just what a prop4'r noun sb«iiild Im*?" a^k •! 
Miss Amelia Gay. 

"Salome 's an Improper noun." said MUm 

Matilda Prim; 
"And 0»rar M'ildr 's another. — such a sh«M-k 
Ing tale (if him ! 
And Vleopntra, Medici, and /*ari» — wltkt- 1 

town ! 
And Mrs. Pankhurst. — survly she U not a 

prop«*r noun ! 
The folks that call these proper nouns hnv** 

missed the (laradigm. 
Their grammar 's not my grammar." said 
Miss Matila IMm. 



llr r«id bow raltb. IbP 

meresl grain, 

The monater mouutnln penk of pride." 

WblrllDg n muuntaln 

the Bpa, 

tjo to tbe sea bla pride waa aent. 

pum : 

Anil long he prajHl tb 

at tbls might be. 

-And last." (be Voice Mid. "bid dispart 
That pvaH Itaal (on-rra to tbc hud 

"Bnt ant." a Volo* said. 

"you will Bud 

And makes n midnlgbt In your beart, 

A frowDlng, lofty pyr 

Your Ignorance." And It waa done. 

Ot uKly doubt wllbln y 

ur mind : 

llpmove (hat muunlal 

." And be did. 

"Now, now," the Voice said, '■worn the apcll. 
Command tbe Alps Into the aea :" 

"Theo nut," the Voice na 

Id. "tosH aside 

Tve bad eaoush of miracle ; 

Fcom off your «plrlf8 


Tlioic mouiilalna may remain." lald be. 


Still as gallaat you awing and g Id 

y flgh 




A Spmniah Legend. 

Two ladM espied a mouldering atone. 
With moM and llcheDH overgrown. 
Yet abowlDK to their aharp young ejrea 
These most |>erplexlng words : "Here lies 
The soul of I*eter Garcia." 

"Now that's a silly thing.'* one said. 
"To mar the gravestone of the dead ! 

Here lie the bones, the brain, the heart. 

Hut heaven has the Immortal part. 
The soul, of Peter Ciarcia." 

He turned away with mocking air. 
And left the other standing there — 
The other, who. though frail and weak. 
Pried up the heavy stone, to seek 
The soul of l*eter Garcia. 

And there he found it ! — gleaming bright, 
A lustrous, glittering, awful sight, 
A monstrous huddle-heap of gold. 
The prise for which a life was sold — 
The soul of Peter Garcia. 


Written for the Golden Wedding of Dr. G. 
R. Alden and Mrs. Alden ("Pansy"). 

Gold— of the blessedest sunshine. 

(Sold — of the yellow-bird's wing, 
(iold — of the buttercup's blossom. 

And the dandelion of spring. 
Not the dark gold of the miner. 

Emblem of greed and unrest. 
Hut the rare. sw«M>t gold of true living. 

This all your years have |M>ssessed. 
This Is the metal of heaven. 

Where the streets are of shining gold. 
And there, in your youth eternal. 

Your wealth can never l)e told. 


|WrUt**n durlna the administration 
I'lrnlilrnt Tsft. 1 

If I were Prt'sldent, I'd speak 

Whnn 1 hiKl things to say. 
(»r on«-f a w«^k, or twice a week, 

()i (wfUty tlm«*N a dsy. 
I'd glvt> my H|H>4*cheN t«» the press 

Ah 1 ^»aM mindful t(» : 
Aii«f thit. tinb'-H 1 nilfti* my guess. 

|h Jiiwt what --Taft — does— do. 

If 1 w«rf Pn'nldiMit. I'd gti 
.\tMii.t thiH giMHily land. 


Hure not for fun and not for show. 

But just to understand. 
While shallow critics dully stormed 

I'd range the country through ; 
And that, unless I'm misinformed. 

Is — just — what— Taft — does — do. 

If I were President. I'd tell 

The Congress my desires. 
And they might act. or go to — well. 

The place of forest flres. 
I would not urge, or prod, or nudge. 

Or t)eat the stubborn crew ; 
And that, if I am any Judge. 

I s — just — what — Taft — does — do. 

If I were President. In short. 

I'd try to do my work 
In steady, self-respecting sort. 

Nor ever flinch or shirk. 
I'd keep a smile up<m my face 

Whoever played the shrew : 
And that, with cheery grit and grace. 

Is — ^Just — what— Taft — does — do. 


When your hands and hfud are weary. 

And your soul has lost its song ; 
When the road Is hot and dreary. 

And the way seems very long ; 
When you have no heart for action. 

When you need the spur and rod, — 
There's a world of satisfaction 

In a plod, plod, plod ! 

Just to see the task t>efore you. 

And forget the distant goal ; 
Just to bid Renown Ignore you. 

And to l»ear a humble s<iul : 
Just to trudge along contented 

Where the many feet have trod, — 
There's no better rest invented 

Than a plod. plod, plod ! 

lA*t the genius leap to glory — 

WIngM feet that spurn the soil ; 
Though I think tht* truer story 

Is that talentM always toll. 
We will make a reputation 

From a broom, a hoe. a hiMl ; 
There are fame and fascination 

In a plod. phMl. plod ! 

For in this wsy and no other 

D«> thf s«>HN<int conit' and go. 
And thi* grvat world Is a brother 

To the toiler with hlH hoe : 
Near to nature working slowly. 

We are dose to nature's (Jod 
When we give our spirits wholly 

To a plod, plod, plod ! 




Yoar wife is growing old, man, 

The white is in her hair. 
But winsome to behold, man, 

As when a maiden fair. 

For there's an autumn beauty 
More charming than the spring; 

The grace of love and duty, 
It is a wondrous thing ! 

Then tell your wife 'tis so, man, — 
It's better lore than books, — 

For women like to know, man, 
That men still like their looks. 

And maybe she will tell you. 
For she 's a guileful tongue. 

The years so kindly spell you 
That you are looking young ! 


[Read at a valentine party of the Boston 
Authors Club.] 

This, with the love of the boys, 

Frank and hearty and true. 
Goes to a maker of Joys 

Ever exultantly new : 
Stories of home and of school. 

Stories of work and of play, 
Built on a masterful rule. 

Manly, sagacious, and gay. 
Still with a youthful heart 

Under your silvery hair. 
Still with a happy art 

Banishing foolish care, — 
What are the proud world's toys 

Here where your laurels shine? 
All of the world of boys 

Sends you this valentine. 


I'm the nice demure Congressional Committee, 

I'm the most convenient creature ever made ; 
I'm a being without human love or pity, 

But I'm very good at bargaining and trade. 
I can take the wisest Bill and knock it silly, 

I can bring the greatest cause to dire de- 
I can make the noblest statesman, willy nilly. 

Come and bow in low petition at my feet. 

Fm a marvel at obscurity and hiding, 
I receive an Act, and lo ! it disappears. 

In my cubby-holes capacious are abiding 
Nearly all the Bills of many, many years. 

I discuss them, calm and cheerful, if I choose 

Give a hearing, or a dozen, if I wish ; 
But report them back to Congress I refuse to. 
And to every mild request I answer, "Pish !'* 

I'm an Irresponsibility in power, 

I'm anonymous, or what amounts to that; 
I'm Democracy's most modest little flower. 
But I make the People wonder where 
they're at. 
For the nation and the State, the farm, the 
All may want a thing, but all of them are 
When I, the calm Congressional Committee, 
Stick my tongue, a mite sarcastic, in my 


"My business is preaching the gospel," 
Said Carey the Cobbler one day ; 

"And I mend shoes to pay the expenses. 
The needful expenses to pay." 

So the shoes of Carey the Cobbler 

Were sturdily first to set forth 
On the path that leads eastward and west- 

To the south and the ultimate north. 

So the shoes that he cheerily cobbled 

Have led a victorious throng 
Over Hard Road and Sad Road and Dark 

To the Country of Laughter and Song. 

Do you wear them, — the shoes that he cob- 

They will carry you firmly afar 
From the Land of the Miser and Glutton, 

Where splendor and luxury are. 

And their soles are none of the smoothest. 
And their patches are coming apart. 

But they lead by the pathway of service 
To the Father's home and His heart ! 


What is that image wherein I was made. 
The Image of my God? His mighty form 
I may not dare to fancy, — eyes and mouth. 
All-hearing ears and hands all-powerful; 
But what is form beside reality? 
For God is love ; and in the shape of loye 
I therefore am created : made to love, 
And love-inspiring even as my Lord. 
And Go<} Is light ; so, in light's image, I : 
I also a discloser as the light, 
A cleanser as the sunshine, and, as light, 
A fashioner of beauties manifold. 



<>od is a ipirlt ; spirit, then, am I : 
No chance commixture of the elements. 
No foundlinfr outcast at the door of Time, 
Bat I>ord of matter and tlie anlverae, 
BeirinninK life when they have passed away. 
And <tod — stipieme disclosure of His ffrace ! — 
God is our Father ; father, then, am I : 
Formed for creating, guiding, cherishing. 
Formed for the fashioning of other lives 
In my own image as my God in Ills. 
Nobler is this to be than all the host 
Of splendid angels and the seraphim 
That speed with wings of light from star to 

And radiate a glory like the sun. 


Turn of a hand. 

And the lightning sweeps your room. 
Turn of a hand. 

And gone are dust -pan and broom. 
Turn of a hand. 

And work is transformed to play. 
Turn of a hand. 

And life is relievett and gay. 

This is the boon 

That science is bringing to you. 
This is the t>oon 

The ages are hastening to. 
This is the boon. 

That labor may know a rest. 
This is the boon. 

That spirits may sei'k the l»est. 

Ever the more 

To rise from the serfdom of toil ! 
Ever the more 

To conqurr the floor and the soil ! 
Ever the more 

With freedom to All the day ! 
Ever the more 

To work In the heavenly way ! 


'If at flrst you don't succeed, 

Try. try again." — 
That's a manly scirt of creed 

For boys and men. 

Trying doesn't cost a cent. 

May win a prtxe : 
Men that mope In discontent 

Will nrver rise. 

There Is magic in a try. 

Vigor and Tim : 
II«' that trusts In **by and by/* 

I^M>k out for him ! 

You will never know your strength 

Without a test ; 
Just by Better Street at length 

One reaches Best. 


llesTen would lose its heavenly looks 

Had heaven no books ; 
And even there, I flrmly hold. 

They must grow old. 
To range along the jasper walls 

In old book-stalls. 

And heaven must have some money, t»o.- 

Small change will do, — 
For what so perfect paradise 

As when one buys 
A Boswell, say, a tome immense 

For fifteen cents? 

I hope they'll not consign to hell 

That musty smell. 
Dear token of the cobwebbed nooks 

Crammed with old books. 
Tis honored far above the rose 

By many a nose. 

The streets of gold, I hope and trust. 

Have some slight dust ; 
Old books would wear an awkward mien 

Were they too clean, 
I'nsprinkled with the symbol nage 

Of hoary age. 

And Anally, my prayer Is bold. 

That heaven will hold 
Some wrapping paper and some twine. 

And be It mine 
To carry home the bulky charm 

Beneath my arm ! 


The chaiiintkn I rAa<rlhh 

Is rhairif of s|>«M»rh, 
But he cAdfrs up the workers. 

Encouraging each. 

He baeka up the timid, 
rpholds with his arms. 

And romnda up his pr«>J«H>ts 
With winsomest charms. 

He leaves no loose edges. 

Is tidw and neat. 
And always is trusty. 

Abhorring denraf. 

He never needs ranimff. 
He aprimfts to his task ; 

A cleverer chairman 
No committee could aak. 




On HlB Seventy-flfth Birthday. 

Some men in age can well contrive 

A hearty youth and true ; 
May I, when 1 am seventy-five. 

Be half as young as you ! 

To other men the decades bring 

Sad wrinkles of the mind, 
Dead branches where dead clusters cling, 

And frosty ways unkind. 

For you, with every added year. 

The tree of merry life 
Bourgeons with blessedness and cheer. 

With happy fruitage rife. 

Pray tell the other forest folk 

How, out of years and rain. 
You fashion such a sturdy oak, 

Leafage of heart and brain ! 

And long may we whom God allows 

Around you, sapling-wise, 
I^ook through your green and sunny boughs 

Up to the sunny skies ! 


Grave Matthew walked with Jesus on the hill, 
A place of wide horizons calm and kind, 
Whence looking backward over history. 
The march of prophecy with true event. 
The providential currents of the world. 
How through the intricate of human woes 
God's love runs ever like a golden thread. 
He clearly saw, and then as clearly wrote. 

Mark walked with Jesus in the market-place. 
Impetuous and eager, Jostled here 
By clamoring traders, there by Roman shield. 
And yonder by a camel's pushing nose. 
And as he walked he saw the Master lay 
His healing hand on sick folk ; heard his 

Of tender wisdom ; caught his burning love. 
And wrote it all in a brief, burning book. 

Luke walked with Jesus by the shining sea, 
And saw the comrade shining of his face. 
And heard the liquid laving of his tones ; 
Knew that glad health flowed from him like 

a tide ; 
Knew that his life, one with the life of God, 
Would spread, a living ocean, o'er the world ; 
And fluent, orderly, he wrote it all 
In sentences as limpid as the lake. 

John sat with Jesus in a twilight room, 
The two alone and all the world shut out ; 

And there the friends, through midnight and 

to morn. 
Communed of love divine, of heaven and God, 
Of life Immortal in the love of God, 
And sacrifice triumphant over sin ; 
Whence risen, all his ardent soul aflame. 
He wrote the crowning book of Holy Writ. 

The mouth of the Lord hath spoken It. — I$aiah. 

God's mouth, it is a wondrous thing, 

As all good folk may see ; 
It tells the robin what to sing. 

And guides the searching bee. 

Where morning-glories flrst unclose 

It greets them with a kiss. 
It breathes a blush upon the rose, 

A balm on clematis. 

It thunders to the mountain peaks, 

It shouts above the gale. 
It prattles to the sunny creeks. 

And whispers to the sail. 

It prompts the lover's timid tongue 

With dear and winsome art. 
It smiles the happiest among 

Men of a simple heart. 

Why, think ! what gropings of the mind, 

What honor would befall. 
Were God a Boundless Undeflned, 

With not a mouth at all ! 


The sea is His : long leagues of shimmering 

The wrinkled lanes wherein the vessels go, 
Coruscant islands gleaming softly fair, 
And all the moonlit sands that lovers know. 

Yes, and the black doom shrieking in the air 
Is also His ; the rock's horriflc snare. 
The savage, foaming, monster waves of woe. 
The hopeless buried caverns of despair. 

The sea is His : then look beyond the sea 
To know the sea ; beyond its agile glee. 
Beyond its tempests, look away to Him, 
The living fountain of its mystery. 

Perchance through all withdrawings far and 

And past the dull horizon's outmost rim. 
Your eyes may glimpse the Sea beyond the 

Your heart may hear the choiring seraphim ! 




King Hubert, he went to the forest in state, 
Id glitter and gold, on a Bunahlny day. 
And commanded lila train in the shadow to 

While a herald proclalAied in the following 

way : 

**Hl8 Imperial Majesty, Hut>ert the Second. 
Since the nightingale's voice is quite musical 

Is graciously pleased, as the day seems too 

To command that the nightingale sing him 

a song!" 

The court all stood waiting for what might 

befall ; 
But somehow, no nightingale answered the 



Calm speech of Sophocles, ethereal clear ; 

Voice of Euripides, all human warm ; 

Thunder of «lSschylus amid the storm ; 
And IMndar, herald of the starry sphere ! 
Yes, and Demosthenes, superb, austere ; 

And Plato, loftiest thought in perfect form ; 

And Lucian, where the wings of fancy 
swarm ; 
And Aristophanes, to laughter dear! 
Ah. Homer, master of the ringing lyre. 

And quaint Herodotus, and all the rest. 
My kindly lords ! Tls well your living Are 

Is banlahed to the hearts that love It best. 
Ami stupid callous thumbs no longer tire 

Through dog's-eared pages on a hopeless 


Thoy had photographs of twby 
Crying, cooing, lost in dreams. 

Pouting, to<». although they say bf 
Doesn't know what temper meanx ; 

Photographs of baby smiling. 

lialiy "talking." Imby dumb. 
And th«* tc<llous time l»egulllng 

With the sucking of his thumb : 

Baby In his bath o* morning, 

lUby in his crib at night, 
Baby in a At of scorning, 

iUby Id a nt of fright. 

And bis father and his mother. 
Aunts and unclca and the rest. 

Differed each one from the other 
As to which of these was liest. 

Each one had his favorite "photo." 

"Just as good as good can l>e." 
While the rest declared It "so-so." 
Or "a perfect mockery." 

In the midst of this contention. 

Half In earnest, half in laugh. 
Aunt Jerusha chanced to mention 

A composite photograph. 

"Just the thing !'* cried all. dellgbtt^ ; 

And a I once they had It done. 
All the photographs united 
By the magic of the sun, — 

All the different airs and graces. 

Smiling, crowing, cross, sedate. 
All the different baby faces 

Photographed upon one plate. 

But the picture? Ah. the din It 
Raised at once, to left and right ! 

Each one's favorite face was In It. — 
Each declared It was a fright ! 


1 do not doubt some paltry sheet 

Encircled with a rubber band 
Sets forth In angles, dollars, feet. 

How Cyrus Wentwortb owns the land. 

I only know the brutal spade 
Has slaughtere«l my anemones. 

And murderous axe and saw have made 
A massacre among my trees. 

I wonder does the title deed 

Mention the river gleams afar. 
That glimpse of where the cattle feed. 

That view of where the willown ar«*. 

I wonder do the terms Include 

The sunshine on the hickory bark. 

The twitter of the rol>in'M brmMl. 
The carol of the meadow lark. 

How strange ! A trail of sodden Ink 
(^an seal to one dull man for aye 

That granary of the IwlNilInk, 

That coppice where the squirrels play. 

How strange ! A lump of gold can buy 
Delights that earth and hesven fill. 

Those mellow ranges of the eye 
From Morrlstown to Cooper Hill. 

How passing strange! that one. half blind. 

Alone to this fair crest may go. 
While all remaining human kind 

Must take the valley road below. 




O Lord, our Lord, who hast set thy glory 
above the heavens. — Pi, 8: 2, 

Above the gold the sunbeams fling 
With bird-songs ilriftlng through, 

God's glory is a richer thing, 
And sweeter singing, too. 

Above the azure wide and high. 

The steady, candid blue, 
God's glory is a vaster sky, 

inimitably true. 

Above the faintest, farthest star 

In distant chaos wrought, 
God's glory, infinitely far. 

Transcends our feeble thought. 

Yet God's rich glow and God's great song. 
And God's vast heaven of blue. 

And God's far starlight ages long. 
Come down to me and you ! 


My soul shall be a telescope, 

Searching the distant bounds of time and 
!rhat somehow I may image, as I grope, 

Jehovah's power and grace. 

My soul a microscope shall be. 
In all minutest providences keen 

Jehovah's patient though tfulnesa to see. 
And read His love between. 

My soul shall be a burning-glass. 

That diligence to worship may succeed. 

That I may catch God's glories as they pass, 
And focus to a deed. 

8o. even so, 

A mote in His creation, even I, 
Seeking alone to do, to feel, to know. 

The Lord must magnify. 


I took a walk in Holy Writ 

Upon a pleasant day ; 
And sweet the blooms that bordered it, 

And fair the shining way. 
It led me to a meadow wide 

By homes of cheery men ; 
It led me where the waters glide 

Soft in a mossy glen. 
It brought me to an orchard rare 

In fragrant lanes outspread. 
And healthful fruits were glowing there 

With savory gold and red. 
It led me to a mountain height. 

Above the gleaming land. 
The farms and cities all in sight. 

And all of heaven at hand. 
And when the evening stars were lit 

I found the homeward way : 
Oh, dear the walk in Holy Writ 

Upon a pleasant day ! 

I took a walk in Holy Writ 

Upon a stormy day. 
When crashing bolts the heavens split. 

And tempests tore the way. 
It led me by a footpath clear 

Where sheltering branches bend ; 
It led me to an Inn of cheer, 

And there I found a Friend. 
He built a fire that warmed me through, 

He brought me bread and meat. 
A strengthening draught he brought me, too, 

Medicinal and sweet. 
And then, before the gleaming brands. 

He sang of mighty things. 
And swept with sure and eager hands 

Thought's most imperial strings. 
And last, when morning stars were lit. 

He set me on my way : 
Oh, blessed walk in Holy Writ 

Upon a stormy day ! 


O seat of pain ! whence agony 

Through all thy church, thy body, flows! 

We gaze upon thy brimming woes, 
And all our Uvea are torn with thee. 

Y'et. ghastly Skull, the dome of mind. 
The throne of regal power, thou. 
Whereby the willing fealties bow. 

The homages of all mankind. 

Thou art the Head ! From thee the nerves 
Of farthest nations radiate, 
And vital thrills of home and state 

Fly swift along their shining curves. 

Yea, clothed SkuH, no longer bare. 
With black and hollow eyes of death. 
Dear Beauty's form and living breath 

Are in the aspect thou dost wear. 

No eyes so tender, lips so sweet. 
No flesh so kindly warm as thine. 
And in thy countenance divine 

All gracious lovelinesses meet. 

Place of a skull! Oh, Calvary! 
The hope, the might, the Joy, the worth. 
The confidence of all the earth, 

Centre and calmly rest in thee I 


Far. lar awiir (■■■> myii 
Anolber vax Bud bl: 

Tb« Inflnlt? ur vBtrts 
Tbe iDflDitp of Bk}'. 


Wbat far bortioa dim ani) loir 

Ul tbe Bkj'B Imperial frare 

tu«slDR oci'sn marn: 

inirt we tbe inn>t1n)( placr. 




AH the angels bend from heaven, all the fays 
their blessings bring, 
All the flowers burst their brightest from 
the loam, 
All the skies are full of sunshine, all the birds 
exultant sing, 
When two. Just two together, build a home ! 

Not a stone in that foundation but is ame- 
thyst and gold, 
And the wood is spiced from Araby the blest. 
What a marvel eight small rooms such a 
wealth of Joy can hold. 
Such an anthem rise from such a tiny nest ! 

There are sorrows in the rafters, there are 

ghosts upon the stairs. 

There are many waiting anguishes to come ; 

But all heaven Joins their laughter and all 

heaven Joins their prayers 

When two. Just two together, build a home. 


[Written In 1916 when the writers of the 
country were celebrating his birthday.] 

Here's to the singer of home, 

Of children, of blossoms and birds ! 
Here's to the carols that come 

A-spnrkle with sunniest words! 
Here's to the bringer of cheer. 

The poet of hope and of love. 
The foe of worry and fear. 

The herald leading above ! 
Long live his beautiful art, 

liong burn his friendliest flame. 
And back to his own warm heart 

The echoes of loving fame I 


The world — and who would call it right ?- 

Is made for men of medium height ; 

And I, a meagre six-feet-two, 

My exaltation often rue. 

My hats I've battered by the score 

On many a lowly linteled door. 

My luckless head oft wears a scar 

To show where cellar steam-pipes are. 

The "ready-mades" a fellow buys 

Are made for folks of average size. 

Mirrors are set to gather in 

Sir Six-foot's necktie or his chin. 

Some pygmy with maliclouH pnte 

Has built all beils for flve-feet-eight. 

Wagners and Pullmans all contrive 

Their scanty berths for flve-feet-flve. 

There's not a table but will siiueeze 

A man of more than medium knees. 
While pews and chairs arc all for him — 
The chap of Lilliputian limb. 

Procrustes, as the ancients said, 
Devised a very vicious bed. 
His victims, neatly tied to it, 
Were masterfully made to fit. 
Too long, too short, this baron stout 
Just cut them ofT or stretched them out. 
Procrustes' mensurating mood 
None, until now, have understood. 
The hapless baron certainly 
Was six-feet-two, or maybe three. 
And thus a righteous vengeance hurled 
Against a medium, average world. 


[Written for the fiftieth anniversay of Dr. 
Sargent's directorship of the Harvard Gym- 

A Sargent there is who with brushes and 

Will picture a business man, scholar, or saint. 
In features and bearing, in soul and in phiz. 
Both inwardly, outwardly. Just as he is. 
The beauties he paints, we arc bound to con- 
Are sadly eclipsed by the shine of their dress. 
And all of his pictures, precisely at par, 
Show mortals no better, no worse, than they 

But the Sargent we know has a loftier skill 
The muscles to strengthen, the hollows to fill. 
The bearing to dignify, eyes to illume. 
The face to make fair as a garden in bloom. 
And the soul with each quickening step to ex- 
Into powers that fashion and guide and com- 
Till all of the being's least, ultimate part 
Is blest by our Sargent's restorative art. 

The pictures he paints with his dumb-bells 

and rings. 
His parallel bars and bis clubs and his swings. 
His horses and chest-weights, trapezes and 

Are pictures well worthy imperial halls. 
Not transcripts of life at its pitiful mean. 
Its average dullness unwholesome and lean. 
But glorified life that is gallant to see. 
Depicted as folks were intended to be. 

For the pictures our Sargent supremely de- 

Are pictures no deadening canvas confines ; 

They are movies, such movies as never were 



By the ■kllfalent art of theatrical trade. 

No IMckford or Chaplin or Falrbanka can Tie 

With the warmth of the hand and the light 

of the eye. 
And the glow of the body an<f Tlgor of mind 
Displayed In the moTles by Sargent designed ! 

It it thus that our artist's high lanrels are 

For fathers haye bleased him for many a son. 
And husbands haye blessed him for many a 

The health and the joy and the stanchness 

of life. 
Some day, when the nnal exhibit Is shown. 
And the work of all artists is open and known. 
The Judge will acclaim a delightful display. 
The work of one man, Uudley Sargent, R. A. 


Some One Rise can do it better ; 

Some One Klse is wiser far ; 
Some One Else is t>etter posted 

What the latest methods are. 

Some One Else would be more fitting ; 

Some One Else would hare more time ; 
Some One Else would please the others ; 

Some One Else would do it — prime. 

Some One Else has had more training ; 

Some One Else is not afraid ; 
Some One Else is used to leading ; 

Some One Else would glre more aid. 

Some One Else-^and do you ask me 
Who this Some One Else may be? 

Tou can find him without trouble. 
For it's any one— but m€. 


The wave moveii on : the water iitays t>ehlnd. 
In steady, twld ellipses firmly swung 
The liquid masiies forward now are flung. 
And sinking now th«> nether course they find. 
Yet still the ware movm ever with the wind 
As water beats on water, till among 
The distant bays the ocean aong is sung. 
And farth«*Mt shores have learned the ocean's 

So, that the world may know a mighty 
The thinker need not travel far and wide. 
But stay at home, and think. For wisdom, 
To one sole hearer, will not dully bide. 
But straight from life by eager life be caught, 
ABd fiow more largely when its fount has 


Miranda and I were at sport with a shell. 
Twisted and pink, by an ocean blue. 
*llark !" said I, **and its lips shall tell. 
Murmuring low, of my love to you.** 

"Yes,** she answered, with dimpling eyes, 
*'Empty sound Is your love to me. 
Vain as a hollow shell that lies 

Tossed by the waven of a fickle sea.*' 

**Nay," I urged, as I held my ground, 
**None of the powers In heaven above 
Coul<f tear from that shell its murmuring 
Or wrench from my heart Its constant 

More I said, and I said it well. 

But better far at the end spake she : 
**Fie, my lad, on this proxy shell ! 

Speak the message yourself to me !** 


He was walking in the garden, and incau- 
tiously he spoke 

Of *'a very fiowery orator," Sir Sentimental 
"An orator of emptiness," as he went on to 


"An orator whose Tague conceits so fiowery 

are and gay. 
Ho vapM, incoherent, pompous, wandering. 

In brief, so very flowery, that they almost 

are insane.'* 

Now when he left the garden what an angry 

clamor burst ! 
Tho rose was all a-tremble. but she found 

her voice the first. 
*'So we are vapid, are we 7'* indignantly she 

"And Incoherent, are weT** asked the Illy at 
Her side. 

"And think ! he called us pompous !" mur- 
mured low the violet. 

"And wandering! What slander!" cried the 
stiir-stalked mignonette. 

**An outrage !" popped the poppy, and the 
rest agreed with him. 
Whereat he framed this protest, which was 
v'oted with a vim : — 

"Reooirod, that all the fiowers are insulted 

By the misuse of an adjective, to wit. of 

Re90irr4, that every mortal in requested to 




From the adjective aforesaid as a ■yDonym 
for 'Tain,' 

For 'Billy,' 'wordy/ 'whimsical/ 'grandilo- 
quent' or 'smart/ 

And let it in the future play a more appro- 
priate part. 

For flowers are finely modelled, much in 
little, beauty's brief. 

Perfection to a petal, and a Tolume in a leaf. 

"So take your perfect orator, whose every 

word is fit, 
A prince of thought and eloquence, of force 

and grace and wit. 
And when he rises highest, in the senate's 

day of days. 
Pronounce his speaking 'flowery,' and count 

it highest praise/' 

They asked a passing zephyr their courier to 

And I have Just related what the zephyr 

told to me. 


The Castle of Delight, I heard. 

Is barred, at entrance, with this word : 

"None but a hero here may rest. 
And they who honor him the best." 

And so I fought on land and sea. 
And many bent their knees to me, 

And with my faithful troops, in state 
I marched up to the castle gate. 

But bugle call, nor ram, nor mine. 
Moved on its hinge the door divine. 

I taught my tongue the sacred skill 
To move men's souls to meet my will. 

And with the applauding crowd, elate, 
I sought again the castle gate. 

But they who held those towers gray 
Were deaf to all that I could say. 

I lived in caves afar from man, 
I thought deep mysteries to scan, 

And with disciples in my train 
I sought the castle gate again. 

But all the hermit's sanctity 
Would not unbar the gate for me. 

Then I went home, my longing spent. 
My hands I clenched, my back I bent. 

/ did whatever nearest came, 
I fcim a friend to do the eame. 

One day while walking, he and I, 
We chanced to pass the castle by, 

And all in sport the gate I tried ; 
When lo, the portal opened wide ! 

And lo, a strangely beauteous sight 
Appeared the Castle of Delight ! 

We entered in with right good will, 
And there we two are living still. 


I know what my remorse will be. 

Then when her final pulses stir : 
"She did so many things for me. 
And I so few, so few for her. 

"Dear, patient hands that toiled so long. 
Where were your kisses, overdue? 
Dear, patient feet, so swift, so strong. 
Where was the box of nard for you?" 

On that sad day, alas ! will come 
The saddest grief, the blackest blot : 
"I saw, and yet my lips were dumb ; 
I knew, and yet I did it not." 


I thought I was a poor man all my days. 

And only late I knew 
Riches that filled my soul with glad amaze, 

All-marvellous to view. 

How am I shamed that I have hung my bead 

The way a pauper bends ! 
I should have walked the earth a king instead : 

My friends — I had my friends ! 


Seems the world a crowded place. 
Brother with the gloomy face? 
All the noble actions done, 
Battles fought and races run ? 
All the workshops overfull. 
Twenty men to every tool ? 
Mortgages on all the land. 
Not a spot where you can stand? 

Think, my brother! of the earth 
Solid lani} is but a fourth. 
Would you tilt with fortune's lance? 
There are oceans of a chance ! 
Crowded though the world may be. 
There's no mortgage on the sea. 
Launch your ship and outward steer ; 
No impatient jostling here ! 
Icy winds and yawning waves. 
Lonely skies and lonely graves. 



Yet the air U fresh and good. 
And the water iwarma with food. 
And the wavea. If you are »)old, 
licap with ailver and with gold. 

Seema the world a pack of men? 
Think, my brother, think again ! 
S(*e what auperflcial toll 
Uakes the merest rind of soil. 
Underneath earth'M shallow skin. 
What unmeasured wealth to win I 
Where the many never go. 
Sapphires shine and rubies glow. 
8ink a shaft from any town. 
There are treasures deeper down. 
Black it is and choking here. 
And the deadly gas to fear ; 
But those Jewels have a light 
Fur the dark of any night. 
And the upper world is far 
Where the clash and frensies are. 
And its mad contentions cease 
In these galleries of peace. 

All the earth pre-empted Hen? 
Think, my brother, of the skies! 
Endless leagues of #altlng air. 
What im|>erlal chano's there ! 
On the smallest plot of ground 
Boom for tallest towers is found. 
From a barnyard's narrow pale 
Any air-ship may set sail. 
Not the shrewdest millionaire 
K%-er can buy up the air. 
Free the franchise here for aye. 
Any one has right of way. 
I'p. my brother ! I«ag nor stop ! 
Boom is ampl<> — at the top! 


Amber, amber, flowing free 

From a prehistoric tree. 

Wh<'n you caught the frantic fly 

And the worm that doubled by. 

Causbt and calmly burii*d them 

In your prison of a gem. — 

It wait rhnntt*. ami nothing more. 

Form*^i your «mM. n'pulMlvt' ntore : 

Muny a thing w<« sliould pn*ft*r 

For your <'i'niM»l»*HM prisoner ! 

rrlntor, i»rlnt«T. nx you give 

To thf jirt |»ri'Mrv.itlv«' 

.\rtii*t'<« hanil ami arti«t*H eye 

l^»vlni:ly to iM-autlfy. 

Fixlni: f«>r ail fnilli-«H t<'rni 

Trirlin;: In-ort. wrluifliii.: worm, — 

FurtlHT ^arrlb'ir"' n-fii"*'- ! 

C'l.ilni till* arti<<t'!t riuiit to ch(»ose ! 

i{i'tfall> inuiiortalizr 

Only Hhat !■ fair and wise! 


Haid the Puppy to the Elephant : "I^t's form 

a partnership. 
And let us tour the i*ountry in a protitali|t> 

For you and I together could prodlgli^s |N>i- 

And gather crowds of people and take tbrni 

quite by storm. 
For you could lift a mighty weight, and I 

could push below. 
While all the crowd would hold their broath. 

and then they'd all say *ob !' 
And then they all would wave their flags and 

clap their hands and laugh. 
Then you and I'd divide the cash, and I 

would give you half. 
Our fortunes would l>e surely made, an uv<>r- 

flowing cup. 
If you would only lift the weights. whll«* I 

would puHh them up." 


The black sky crashed on the quivering land. 

And the road was like a sea : 
1 only saw a dear, white hand 

A-beckoning to me. 

Bed lightninga darted through bellowing Kpace 

And played in an angry glee : 
I only saw a sw«H't. fair fac<> 

Waiting to welcome me. 

The world went m-lld in the storm's •*o1Ipim*. 

And the road fell into the sea ; 
I only saw the bleiised lips 

That held a kiss for me. 


[Written durlna the Iluffhes-Fulrbank* 
Presidential campaign. 1 

llughea and FalrbnnkH. a Judicial couplf ! 

Such a h1s<' partnership never faiU. 
lIught^M will manag(> tht> s<-al*f< of JuMtl<-«*: 

FalriuinkM will handle th«* Fairbanki* iMal-«. 

.Ml of tbt> proldenis that mme lH>fore th«*ni. 

.\li iH'wIlilerlng. grim details, 
llugh*"4 will wolgh on til*' H4'al(*M of Ju«tb*«*. 

Falrttanks will weigh on the Fairitatik- 

Si-alcs of Ijiw and the scab's of IJiNir ! 

nne iir the ottu^r alwax** avails 
Happy unli»n.— fbt* M*alf% nf Justice 

Finely matchtnl with the Fairbanks nrab's ! 

Out of the tv7lllKliI. mygtlcal. dim. 
ainrtli'B B blrcl-oill ehuHtl; and grim. 
Ovpr the mpadtwB the flutlog crj. 
Stern Bud pathetic and weirdly nigh ; 
"Whip poor Will!" 

Where doea he live, thlf DiyMerloiiB Will: 
PannlHUd or foreat, or vnk or hill} 
Why 1> be poor, and It poor, why thus 
Are roD peralatentlT bidding u> 
•Whtp poor H'fll"f 

la he a alupid, befond beUel? 
Olher folks pilfer and eall him a thief? 
Otliera are Irlcty and dub him a chent! 
Ii tbat the n-Bson fou aadly repeat 
'■Whip poor \Hll-t 

Ing of blowi 
frlendBhlp wherever h 
ed and amlllnKl]- chid.— 
'HHun BO quBlatlj }'i>u bid 
"H'ftip poor Will-r 

not know blm. thia pitiful WUV 
its paBB,— be la wltb uk Btlll : 
not Bmlle as he atands at LioyV 

Thnifltti.i; ihi 
If you'd have 

(ion IS CTTIDE. 

'. ttaoucb clouds a 

lopca accompltshed, God 1h guide : 

I.eailers lead linth nlitht and day : 

(iuideH muBt eulde through day and night. 
Father, guide ua all Ihe way. 

Be 11 dark or be It light •. 




Oo the shore of an Island far awaj, 
Stood a spirited youth, one suninior day* 
And thus he moaned to the moanlnx tea : 

"Ah, sad Is the fate that falls to me ! 
The cruel waves that around me roar, 
They bind me down to this petty shore. 
Oh, were I once on the other side, 
rd seek the lion, and tame his pride ! 
And after the royal beast was slain. 
As kinff of the Beasts, in his place. I'd reisn ! 
Ah, sad Is our lot when a cruel fate 
Represses and chains the brave and gremt !** 


I know a professor of Oreek and of I^tln ; 

His nouns and his verbs he is not at all 
|>at in. 

But he knows how to m'ield the plane, ham- 
mer, and saw. 

He knows how to paint, how to etch and to 
How to dei'orate dishes and satin. 

He can pluy on the flute and the Tloloncello, 

He raises flne fruit, large and juicy and mel- 

He will write you a sonnet, an ode, or a 

He will sinx you a sonic in an elegant way ; 
He's a v«>ry versatile fellow. 

But I know a shrewd student whose impu- 
dent guess 1h, 

(To account for the way the professor di- 

From his I^tin and <treek, art and farming 

That these are the things the professor can 
While the clasi>lcs he merely — pro/rssrs/ 


My hearth is bright 

With ruddy light : 

The chwry fUni«*s aspire. 

Th<* woo<l's brave soul 

(■lows In the coal. 

And c<»nstant bums the fire. 

But. narniwlng back. 
The Arrplarc black 
r«inflnes the flame's clear 
And dark and high 
To the sil«*nt sky 
The chimney rlacs ttUL 


A glo4»my frame 

For the eager flame. 

And a gloomy upward way ; 

But light and heat. 

And the flre complete. 

These narrowing bonds obey. 

So my fortuneH dim. 

And my sorrows grim 

That press all darkly nigh. 

Their draft austere 

I fight and fear. 

But it draws my soul on high ! 


[Read at the reception, on October 14, 1914. 
given by the club tu Its members who were 
In Europe at the outbreak of the war, — its 
president. Judge Hotwrt Orant. with Mrs. 
Thomas Wentworth Hlgglnson. Senator Lodge. 
Dr. Moxom. Mrs. T. B. Aldrich. Dr. and 
Mrs. Addison. Dr. H. A. Brldgman. Professor 
Churchill, Professor Huphle Hart. Dr. Van 
AUsn. Rev. P. R. Prothlngham. Mrs. Barbara 
Galpln. Mr. William Lindsay. Mr. LeRoy 
Phillips. Dr. Rand. Mrs. Mabel TiHld. Mrs 
M. M. Sweaney. Mlas ElUa Orne Whits, and 
Hon. Brand Whltlock.1 

Right welcome, adventurers all ! 

We rejoice in your happy release 
From war*s o^'erpowerlng thrall 

To our country of modified peace. 

You have harrowing stories to tell. 
Of loss, and vexation, and worse; 

AmT that 1 may harrow as well. 
I give you a welcome In verse. 

You left fr<»m cares to get free. 

They came in a double fiood ; 
You left on a watery sea. 

YcHi return on a sea of blood. 

You w**nt as lions gallant. 

But your l«>onlu«* glory shrunk ; 
Far t»etter the elephant. 

With his non-iletachable trunk ! 

You thought, as you m-ent aboard. 

That Ink was the solvent nf men ; 
You found there are times when the sword 

Is mightier fsr than the |M-n. 

Henceforth when the wandering fit 

Is n|»on you ready tti burst. 
You will think the l»etter of It, 

And see America first. 

You went to delve in the lore 
Of the l>est that all ages have foaod ; 

Bnt the books were spattered with gore, 
Tk9 llbrarlM burned to tbc gronod. 



You went to revel in art. 

Id Time's most majestic remains ; 
You found, with a bleeding heart. 

Vast heaps of smouldering fanes. 

You went to learn in the school 
Of goTernment's rational source ; 

But you found a world in the rule 
Of brutal, tyrannical force. 

What Journey ings ever were kenned 
That closed in more desolate moans? 

You went to the rainbow's end 
And found there a pot of bones. 

But ah, the books you will write 

As you muse on these horrible scenes ; 

And the poems you all will indite 
And send to the magazines ! 

A new "Utopia, or 

The Country where Combats Cease" ; 
A new Inferno of war. 

And an Iliad of peace ! 

But most of all you will praise 

This land of the brave and the free. 

With a President mild in his ways. 
And a thousand leagues of sea ! 

Now far may your thoughts expand, 
And firm be your fountain pen ! 

And here is a welcoming hand : 
We are glad you are home again ! 


Down the chimney's treacherous way 

A flying squirrel fell one day. 

And, terror-stricken, flew around 

With scratching sound and bumping sound, 

Behind the pictures, chairs, and vases. 

In all obscure, protecting places. 

And how persistently, with shout. 

And flapping cloth and poker stout. 

We tricKl to drive the rascal out ! 

Th^re was the sunny world outside. 
And doors and windows open wide. 
Yet that poor beastie. foolish-wise. 
With quivering breast and frightened eyes, 
His little body one wild fear. 
He darted there and scuttled here. 
But shunned, the silly ! o'er and o'er. 
The open windows and the door. 

Till last a nervous, lucky blow 
Worked the poor fool a happy woe, — 
Struck him to floor, a furry heap. 
And there he lay as if asleep. 
We took him up with tender care 
And bore him to the outer air ; 
When suddenly his beady eyes 

Snapped open in a glad surprise ; 
*'Too good," he thought it, **to be true. 
But yet I'll try," and oflT he flew ! 

And so, dear human squirrels, we. 
Caught where it is not best to be. 
By some mischance or likelier sin. 
The same wild, blundering course begin. 
We rave, we faint, we fly, we fall. 
We dash our heads against the wall. 
We scramble there, we scurry here. 
We palpitate in nameless fear. 
In stupid comers still we hide. 
And miss the windows, open wide. 

Till last, struck down by some stern blow 
That seems a climax to our woe, 
As there we lie in helplessness, 
God's great, strong hand of tenderness 
Closes around us. lifts us high. 
And bears us forth beneath the sky. 
And leaves us where we ought to be. 
Under blue heavens, glad, and free. 


Though all the world is inky black. 
The Christian's heart is bright. 

Though all the world is oflT the track. 
The Christian's course is right. 

Though all the world has come to blows. 

The Christian is at peace. 
Though all the world in shackles goes. 

The Christian flnds release. 

Though all the world should faint and fail. 
Still, Christian, hold you true ! 

He must endure, He must prevail — 
The Christ who dwells in you ! 


So much I had forgotten in the dark ! 
And here in heaven it returns again, — 
Floods of familiar eye-sight memories 
That bathe my soul in gladness ! Once again 
Those tender massy hues that softly reach 
Out of the blackness to the tardy dawn : 
Once more the pebble flashing in the sun. 
The clean look of the grasses after rain. 
The delicate withdrawing of the trees 
Along the far horizons ; once again 
The phlox a-quiver to a hungry moth. 
The hot poise of the dragon-fly, the slow 
Reluctant falling of the autumn leaves ; 
And once again — oh, kindly place prepared ! — 
The blessed friendliness of books a-row 
In smiling cases. Home! Once more at 

After a long, black exile. And the form 
Of mother's hand is what it used to be. 
And not a curve is changed in mother's face. 




When the people get to thiDking, 
*Mld the clamor of the world. 

Ancient Idolx. trembling, shrlnkinic. 
From their pedeitalt are whirled* 

Mouldy evils, quavering, blinking, 
F^om their noisome dens are burled. 

Just a bit of ruminating, 

Bcal thinking, not pretence. 
How it finds the nations waiting 

For a breath of common sense ; 
How it wMiens, agitating 

Centre to circumference ! 

Not a sham can stand before it. 

Not a lie can bear the brunt. 
Ridicule — it tramples o'er it ; 

Naught it cares for form and wont ; 
Bitter sbafu that seek to score it 

Get an answer stem and blunt. 

Ah, the wrongs to Sheol slinking. 
Pushed by Thought's intrepid gun ! 

Ah, the foulness, beaten, sinking 
At the rising of the sun. 

When the people get to thinking, 
And the hero deeds are done ! 


Firm-faKtened on the dreary bar 
Where sands alone and surges are. 
Two exiles from the pleasant land. 
The dea<t and ugly pine-trees stand. 

Half burled in the rising Ude 
Some of their shameful wounds they hide. 
But withered tops against the skies 
8how ever where the channel lies. 

Thus, half displayed above the wave. 
Half burled in a living grave. 
Home scoundrels tarry here below, 
Tu |H)lnt where safety lies, and woe. 

(A phrase of Dr. J. II. Jowett's.) 

Open my eyes, liord, to the Spirit's beauty. 
The lo%'eliness of high and holy duty. 

Open my ears, liord, to the truthH eternal. 
The matchloss teaching of Thy lore NU|>enial. 

Open my hesrt. Ix)rd. to the need of others. 
And show me how to love and help my broth- 

Open my home. I^rd. to Thy children lowly. 
That I may share my goods and share then 


Open my life. Lord, all my pores of being. 
To noble giving, helping, hearing, seeing. 

Fill all my channels with Thyself. O Master ; 
Flow through me perfectly, knd ever faster. 

A humble conduit, with no other glory. — 
Wliy, all the stars would bend to learn my 


Your side is gold, the other side is hrasH? 

Perhaps; but stay your pride. 
Gold may be tamiahed, brass t>e radiant : 

Look on the other side. 

Your side is true, the other side is false? 

Perhaps; but time and tide 
Have often overturned the thoughts of men 

Look on the other side. 


Young Timothy Timid is cautious and 

wealthy ; 
He has heard that bicycle owners are 

healthy ; 
And being himself but a weak-chest«Hl youth. 
He bought him a wheel, — and a l>eauty. in 

A pity,** he said, as he viewed it with pride, 
'*To scar it and batter it learning to ride ; 
And worse (what is likely) to batter my- 
I cannot do better than hire with my pelf 
Home cycler to ride in my stead, and be rid 
Of all danger and worry and work." Ho he did. 



thin are 


Veterans, ere you leave ui 

your lesaening columns. 
Ere you are laid with your wounds in 

soil of your glorified country. 
Stars and Stripes on your coflin sn<l taps 

blown soft in the graveyard, 
Bre you pass to the shore where your ntm- 

rmdes are drawn up to greet you. 
Give to us who r«>main a share of your mur- 
age and vlg(»r: 
Teach us, young and mature, the tesl that 

age ban not withered. 
Ours are different foes, they come not out in 

the open, 
Never with shot and sht'll announre the 

place of their hiding : 
Rather they lurk in the swsmps and fill the 

air with miasma ; 
Rather they poison the wells, and lay their 

mines in the midnight. 



They are the cohorts of greed, shameleiis and 

crafty and cruel. 
They are the bandits of lust, crawling, treach- 
erous, deadly. 
They are the rabble of^ hate, torches and 

bombs for their weapons. 
Thieves are they and despollers, vandals of 

all that is precious. 
Ah, would they draw the sword and leap to 

a manifest battle ! 
Would we could see ttfem and hear them and 

feel the shock of their onset ! 
Teach us, veterans passing, how to be heroes 

of patience; 
How to fight in the dark, and how to grapple 

with spectres! 
How to watch, and endure, and strike at the 

drag of a shadow ! 
How to throttle a fever, and how to sabre a 

passion ! 
Give us your faith and your hope, and your 

invincible courage. 
Keeping your muskets and swords and wheel- 
ing your cannon with you ; 
Useless are they for our war, but give us 

more powerful weapons, 
Wisdom and firmness and truth, the love of 

God and our country. 
These as ye pass, O heroes, give us who must 

now be heroic. 
Gird them close to our souls, and teach us 

well how to use them. 
So. as you march to your graves, veterans 

worn with the conflict. 
You will lie down, in peace, leaving a true 

So with the changing age new dangers will 

meet old daring. 


The marsh is full of ocean. Proud, serene, 
As monarch seeks a queen. 
The lordly blue has risen upon the green. 
Has flooded all the runnels, brightly found 
The darkest inner bound. 
And to the farthest shade where lizards lie 
Has brought the sea*s wide reach, the mir- 
rored glory of the sky. 

The sedge is whelmed in saltness. Clear and 

Imperially sure. 

The sea completes its calm investiture. 

Subdues the ranks of rushes, buries deep 

The flats where turtles sleep. 

And to the shallowest places dimly brings 

The thought of ocean caves, the conscious- 
ness of mighty things. 

While we that look upon it, minded well 
Of life's unfolding spell. 

Think of the seasons when with God we dwell. 
When heaven's purity and heaven's truth 
And heaven's leaping youth 
Possess our souls and lead them to the sun. 
And we, unholy, weak, with God's almighti- 
ness arc one. 

Supreme those days, exultlngly supreme. 
Of vision and of dream. 
When loftiest ideals closely gleam. 
And all that we would be or dare to do 
Is possible and true. 

And all our days are seized and Intershot 
With endless time, nor is there any space 
where God is not. 

Ah, but another fancy takes the sea ! 
Majestically free 

Its tide withdraws by steady, slow degree ; 
The dripping reeds appear, the grasses show 
Bent as the waters go, 

And last, along the distant glimmering shore 
"Farewell," the ocean seems to mock ; *'fare- 
well for evermore !" 

And now, tlescrted by the faithless flood. 

See where the matted mud 

Is dark with red, as wet by wounds and 

blood ; 
And see where crawling creatures, dazed and 

On slimy courses wind. 

And where the shrunken currents try in vain 
To image and rehearse the vanished glories 

of the main. 

Too well the saddened soul discerns the sign ; 

Too well this heart of mine 

Has known the ebbing tide of life divine ; 

Beholding where God's splendors at their 

Have bathed in love and light, 

Now muddy wastes of weltering despair, 

Where ugly creatures crawl and hidden foul- 
nesses lie bare. 

But oh, my soul ! within the marsh's heart, 
Down where the grasses start. 
There lies a flood unmapped in any chart. 
Forth from the sea, beneath the upper sand. 
The ocean's waves expand. 
And only surface waters, seeming harsh. 
Desert the deeper bond, the ocean-marriage 
of the marsh. 

And thus, my soul, be calm and comforted. 
Though shallow joys have fled, 
And all the fairness of your life is dead. 
Be sure, though far withdrawn its breakers b«. 
Within you lies the sea ; 
Be sure, however surface currents run, 
Down in the blessed deeps of life that yos 
and God are one. 




I'd always shine on holidays. 

Were I the sun ; 
On sleepy beads I'd never gaze. 
But focus all my morning rays 
On busy folks of bustling ways. 

Were I the sun. 

I would not melt a sledding soow. 

Were I the sun ; 
Nor spoil the ice where skaters go. 
Nor help thos<> useless weeds to grow. 
But hurry melons on, you know. 

Were I the sun. 

I'd warm the swimming-pool just right. 

Were I the sun ; 
On school-days I would hide my light. 
The Fourth I'd always give you bright. 
Nor set so soon on Christmas night. 

Were I the sun. 

I would not heed such paltry toys. 

Were I the sun — 
Such work as grown-up men employs ; 
But I would favor solid joys. — 
In short, I'd run the world for boys. 

Were I the sun ! 


[Written before the United States entered 
th« World War, when our nmtlon seemed chiefly 
concerned for its commerce.) 

United — for what? To extort and oppress? 
To fatt<*n Big BuslnesH and worship the 
To coin the need of a world in distress? 
To rail at the preacher and s(*off at the 
United — to nil up a plundering bag. 

To mock at the ages and grasp at the min- 
To haggle and cocen. to bluster and brag. 
And juggle with honor for what thera la 
In It? 
Forbid it, trite and kindly Fatetl 
Xol thuM arc trc VnUed State$. 

United — ah, brothi'rH ! united for what? 

To s('t up a buzzard In place of ao eagle? 
Unkindly to hover an<) craftily plot. 

The smaller to snare and the weak to in- 
veigle ? 
Unlt«l — to cfinquer the rest of the world? 

In fett4>rs of gold<>n dominion to bind them, 
Our l»anm>r of glory disgracefully furled. 

And lliM>rty's light only shining to blind 
/*rov fio*l that no aurh doom atraita 
To damn tht-tc fair United State: 

United — ah, thus we interpret the name — 

United for freedom's unbounded extension. 
For progress united, for knowledge aflame. 

For permanent peace and the end of con- 
United for brotherhood wide as the earth. 

For brotherly sacrifice, brotherly caring. 
United to purchase the infinite worth. 

United for manly and generous daring. 
Be this the future that await$ 
Our iMTOthcrly UtUted Btatet. 


"I will keep him In perfect peace." 
"My peace I give unto you — not as the ^ 


There is peace at the heart of the storm 
Where the whirling currents are still ; 

Beneath the snow it Is warm. 
Sweet good in the bitter of 111 ; 

Not the dead peace of despair. 

The torpor of vanquished men. 
The hush of the stagnant air. 

The calm of the 8mothere<l fen ; 

But the glowing, exbilarant rest 
That warriors snatch in the fl^t« 

The calm of a resolute breast. 
The quiet of conquering right. 

Cease. O faltering heart. 

To long for a languorous ease. 

Peace that is Itought In r mart. 
Peace that is ready to please. 

Yours be the peace of the sword. 

Of a bann<*r stoutly unfurled ; 
Yours be the p4*ace of the Lord. 

And not the peace of the world. 


With cymbal's clang and tap of druma 

The brave Salvation Army comes. 

While hallelujah lass and lad 

Peal out their march-songs wild and glad. 

Behind them troops a motley throng. 

Le<] by the splrlt-moving song. 

And xwlft the b^ader sweeps them all 

Into the rough Salvation hall. 

Pauseless. the eager hymn and prayer 
And exhortation b4*at the air. 
Till many a hardene<l heart la stirred 
By some t>old, (*od-dlrected word. 

Now fslls a huah. A voice well known. 
Though strangely softenc<l In its tone, — 
A girl's volcf*. lately tauisht to win 
Its acivnts back from w<»rds of pin. 



Trembles in untried prayer, that flies, 
Rude-winged, straight upward to the skies. 

**0 God, forgive my guilty past !*' 
The low voice stammers at the last, — 

"And in the past which is to come, 
O Father, keep me!" 

How the dumb 
Speak giant words when Christ within 
Has loosed the dwarfing bands of sin ! 
Full well she knew, poor penitent. 
The evil with her nature blent. 
She knew the guilty past would seek 
Her white, new future, frail and weak ; 
And at Christ's feet her fear she cast : 
"Lord, save me from the coming past !'* 

Well for us all to make our own 

The poor Salvation lassie's groan ! 

Base habits, hated, half subdued ; 

The evil plan ; the action rude ; 

White lies, grown black ; the writhing 

thought ; 
Weak worries, bom of faith distraught, — 
All will return, or first or last. 
I^rd, save us from that coming past ! 


{Written at a time in the World War when 
President Wilson seemed dilatory to the im- 
patient country.] 

We have given you our money, we have given 
you our boys. 
We are making your munitions by the ton. 
We have left our common labors, we have 
left our common joys, 
In the hope to end the menace of the II un. 
We are paying double prices from our collars 
to our shoes. 
We are giving up our pleasures by the 
We are cutting out the candy and the beef- 
steak and the booze. 
We have done jast what you asked us ; ask 
us more. 

Have we grumbled at the taxes? Have we 
grumbled at the draft? 
Have we grumbled at the heatless, eatless 
We have flown our flags the higher, we have 
merely grinned and laughed. 
We have plodded on our patriotic ways. 
It is all an awful nuisance and we wish that 
it was done. 
It is all a most infernal beastly bore. 
But we would not pause or slacken till we've 
licked the hateful Hun ; 
We have given all you asked for ; ask for 

We are counting on your daring, we are 
counting on your speed. 
We should like it if you were a little rash ; 
We will back you to the limit with what- 
ever you may need, 
With the men and with the labor and the 
Won't you worry, won't you hurry, won't 
you tear your hair a bit? 
Won't you even give a wild Rooseveltian 
We are weary of the aiming and we want to 
make a hit ; 
All we ask is that you up and ask us more. 

Summon workers to the shipyards with com- 
mands they must obey. 
Bid the preacher leave the pulpit for the 
Heap the taxes high and higher till we can 
no longer pay, 
Call five million to the colors, call them 
Do not wait to know our wishes : we are 
eager to be led ; 
We will follow, if you only go before. 
Drop the pen and seize the sabre, shout to 
raise the very dead ! 
Get excited I Go the limit ! And — then — 


An eloquent word — for the Master, 
Yet half for the speaker, too; 
For be sought as his gain the praises of men 
And not the good he might do. 

So the angels sadly left it. 
And for all of Its lofty sound. 
Men tossed it awhile to and fro with \ 
And then let it fall to the ground. 


A stammering word for the Master, — 
Blundering, timid, and slow ; 
But the best he could do, for his purpose was 
But his heart was a-thumping so. 

Yet the angels seized it and bore it 
On pinions happy and strong, 
And made it a sword in the war of the Lord, 
The struggle of right against wrong. 

For the battle is not to the giant. 
The race is not to the fleet. 
And an armor of might for the bitterest flght 
Is found at the Saviour's feet. 

And thrones in the highest heaven. 
And the laud of the seraphim, 
Art> for weak ones that dare follow Christ 
Yea, venture to fail — for Him. 


TllK CATItllllV 

■nd Inky and wrrrri ; 

 ile.udhtj rhnrlnk, 
II' irainl babollnk. 





[Written during the World War.] 

We do not like to own it, 

We wish It were not so ; 
It's useless to bemoan it, 

Or hide what all may know : 
That we're not In the gravy, 

That still our fortune 's full, 
We owe the British Navy 

By grace of Johnny Bull. 

We count our golden dollars, 

We count our bags of grain, — 
They'd all wear German collars 

If William ruled the main. 
Poor Russia Is a slavey. 

Poor Belgium is a hell ; 
Without the British Navy 

Their fate were ours as well. 

That we are our own masters 

And hold our banner high. 
That Infinite disasters 

Have passed our nation by, 
That still In progress wavy 

Our skiff of state we pull, 
We owe the British Navy : 

Hurrah for Johnny Bull ! 


[Read before the Twentieth Century Club of 
Boston on our entrance into the World War.] 

At last, after patient years, we have grit and 

To look In a Frenchman's face; 
We can speak the Belgian, the British, the 

Russian name 
Without a sinking of shame. 
At last — oh, the joy and the pride of It I — 
Our country will •'do her bit" ! 

Though our brother Is over the farthest sea. 

Our brother's keepers are we. 

Though savage chief, or the distant, most 

alien lord 
Has done a deed abhorred, 
Though the meanest churl In the deepest 

African wild 
Has beaten the smallest child. 
Ours Is the quarrel, and ours Is the holy 

And ours are Duty's law^s. 

Who has heard of a righteousness of degrees, 

Hemmed by convenient seas? 

Of brotherhood bounded. 

Of mercy surrounded. 

Of love cold-shackled by ease? 

A widow's tear Is a little thing, 

But it drowns the pomp of the mightiest king, 

And It washes boundary lines away, 

And It sweeps old foulnesses Into the day. 

And on It travels, afar, alone. 

Till It leaps to the foot of the great white 

There Is no distant and no near, 
No halting, no fear, 
When a hero sees a widow's tear. 

What can we do? 

It Is easy to be too young, too old ; 

It Is easy to be too rich, too poor. 

Too busy to sec It through, 

Too basely secure ; 

But It Is not easy to be too bold. 

What can we do? 

We can do the thing we arc told. 

Not to the hero the choice of his deed. 
Weighing the easiest, picking the safest and 

Ills to answer the need. 
Far or near, west or east, 
In the general's tent or where men battle. 

and bleed. 
This Is the hero's test : 
Not prudence, not foresight, not calmnessr 

and caution of mind. 
But a leap, and no looking behind ; 
An Instant yea, and God for the rest. 

With no debate. 
No query of dubious fate. 
Though he choose the bursting shell. 
Though he choose a flaming hell, 
Though he choose the hospital's pitiful, nar- 
row strait, 
The hero chooses well. 

Better a lifetime hid from the light of the sun 
Than be blind to the world's great need and 

the thing to be done. 
Better a lifetime shut from the song of the 

Than bo deaf to Duty's imperial word. 
Better a lifetime bound to the cripple's chair 
Than walk for an hour the path of a cow- 
ard's care. 
Better an empty purse forever and aye 
Than a purse filled onco, only once, the Judas 

Better Duty's rudest, ungarlanded grave 
Than all the glittering show of a selfish knave. 

What can we do? 

We can hold us true 

To the highest thought and the broadest view. 

We can smile at the threat of an evil fate. 

We can scorn to hate. 

We can bury fear In the pit of doubt. 

We can sing, we can sing with courage stout. 

We can see it through. 



What can we do? We can do our beat. 

Elach his beat and not hia nelgbbor'a, — 

Money, body, prayera and labora. 

Cheer and faith and eager zent ; 

Each, at the world-wide, beaven-hlgh call 

To do bis l>erit, to stand or fall. 

To lead or follow, tarry or go. 

Guard at borne or face the foe, 

LWing to die, and dying to live. 

His best, and all of bis best, to give. 

And at last, when the glorious end has come. 
And the battle sounds forever are dumb. 
When the battle horror, the battle fear. 
Are lost in the light of the golden year. 
When all are seeking all men's good 
And the nations are welded in brotherhood. 
Then — oh. Jubilant dawning ! — then 
Heroes of women and heroes of men 
They shall have right to the victors' place. 
They shall have right to look God io the face. 


The theoretic turtle started out to see the 

toad ; 
He came to a stop at a liberty-pole in the 

middle of the road. 
**Now how. In the name of the spouting 

m-hale." the indignant turtle cried, 
**Can I climb this perpendicular cliff, and get 

on the other side? 
If I only could make a big balloon, I'd 

lightly over it fly : 
Or a very long ladder might reach the top. 

though It diM^s look fearfully high. 
If a b«>aver wi>re In my place, he'd gnaw a 

passage through with his teeth ; 
I can't do that, but 1 can dig a tunnel and 

pass beneath." 
He was digfrlng his tunnel, with might and 

main, when a dog looked down at the holt*. 
"The easl(*st way. my friend." said he. "is 

to tcalk around the pole." 


"Old man." the captain blustere<l. 

In haHte to m(>et the foe. 
"My tUMtpn are seeking forago : 

Come : show us whi'n> to go." 

A mile he ItHl thrm onivanT. 

To wh»*r<'. In iM'auty spread, 
Th«'y saw a fl**Id of barh-y. 
"Thi- vi'ry thing!" they said. 

"N<»t h«'n' !" the old man urge*! th»»m : 
"llav#« pntlrnrr for n wblb'." 
And ftturdlly he leil thmi 
Another wemrjr mllv. 

The barley field he showed them 
They speedily despoiled ; 

Ah, little Deed of reapers. 

Where such a troop has tolled ! 

But "Fie on all this pother !" 
The angry captain cursed ; 
"Old man. this second barley 
Is poorer than the first." 


Perhaps," the good man answered, 

"It may not be so fine ; 
But that field is another's. 
And this field, sir, is mine." 

A Gymnasium Song. 

Dumb-bells, silent though ye be. 
King the bells of health for me ! 
Summon strength to muscles weak. 
Call the roses to my cheek : 
Ring the languid bearing out. 
And ring In a carriage stout ; 
Where the hidden frailties He, 
Sound alarm and bid them fly ; 
Feeble voice and shortened breath. — 
Toll their unlamented death ; 
Ring the happy marriage hour 
Wedding Comeliness to Power ; 
Sweeping free, and wide, and strong; 
Carol forth my matin song ; 
On your sides be written this : 
Work to health and Health to 6lto« ; 
Dumb-bells, silent though ye be. 
Ring the bells of health for me! 


A very vicious Angl«*. a master of abuse. 
Reviled a nelghlH)r Angle, and shouted. 

"You're obtuse:" 
(He hImtM'lf was quite acute, as all angles 

like to !»o. 
And tb«* n«'lRbtK>r tr<2« obtuse, as any one 

could see.) 

It wasn't many minutes. I much regret to 

Befor<> they came to blows In a very savage 

And to ninkr thf matter worse, the Ellipse 

wiiH Htrtilling by. 
And. Joining In the fray, almost lost a foons 
eyr 1 

A ParnlMiln. alas! stop|ie<l and mlngltHl In 

th«* fight. 
But was fiutt**ned to an oval, a very shock 

Ing sight ! 
A m<i«(t aggressive Triangle, tall and rathi^r 




Was carried from the combat with both bis 

aides knocked in. 
A smooth and perfect Circle came rolling 

on the ground, 
And kindly counselled peace, but he couldn't 

bring them 'round. 

They got to throwing points. There were 

many looking on. 
And one of these was hit, — 'twas a portly 

"Police ! police !" he cried, and he shouted^ 

long and loud. 
And soon a squad of Rectangles captured all 

the crowd ! 

A battered, sorry rabble, they stood before 

the Square, 
Who frowned upon the culprits with his 

most judicial air. 
And imposed a heavy sentence that none of 

them could shirk, — 
A life, in Conic Sections, of unremitting 

work ! 

And that is why, my hearers, as wise pro- 
fessors say. 

They're still in Conic Sections, and cannot 
get away. 


High-backed and straight-backed, with tidy 

Mothers loTe it in just that way ; 
Arms low down, not to interfere 
With sewing and knitting that mothers hold 

Rockers that swing to a gentle tune. 
Peacefully sweet as a brook in June — 
A Chair, and Somebody in it! 

CtracefuUy curved, with a dainty air, 
Proud of its burden young and fair, 
Made for a maiden dear as she 
To 9it In and smile as she pours the tea — 
Just for one and too small for two, 
All the gallants are envying you — 

A Chair, and Somebody in it ! 

Mounted on rollers, and heavy and strong, 
I>egs absurdly but usefully long. 
Little back and a high-rimmed tray, 
And a bib that is soiled in a shocking way. 
Baby clatter with bowl and spoon, 
And baby chatter and baby croon — 
A Chair, and Somebody in it ! 

But Mother has gone to the Home Above, 
And left us alone with a sacred love ; 
And the Maiden — ah, happily busy is she, 
With no more time for afternoon tea ; 
And the Baby *s in college ! Ah, memories fair, 
What sadder sight than a memory chair — 
A Chair, and Nobody in it ! 


Are your sorrows hard to bear? 

Life is short ! 
Do you drag the chain of care? 

Life is short ! 
Soon will come the glad release 
Into rest and joy and peace; 
Soon the weary thread be spun, 
And the final labor done. 
Keep your courage ! Hold the fort ! 

Life is short ! 

Are you faint with hope delayed? 

Life is long! 
Tarries that for which you prayed? 

Life is long! 
What delights may not abide, — 
What ambitions satisfied. — 
What possessions may not be 
In God's great eternity? 
Lift the heart ! Be glad and strong ! 

Life is long! 


[Written when the words complained of 
were new — and troublesome.] 

I'd like to speak of camouflage 

In manner philosophic, 
And that mysterious barrage, 

A most enticing topic. 

Those noble words and novel themes. 

How gloriously I'd bounce 'em 
Through brilliant oratoric dreams, 

If I could but pronounce 'em. 

And here and now this orator 

Petitions all commanders. 
That if we have another war 

It shall not be in Flanders. 


If a poem you would write, 

Now's the time! 
Ne'er was epic yet or sonnet 
Captured but by leaping on it ; 
Pegasus, depend upon it. 

Knows his time. 

If you have a task to do, 

Now's the time ! 
Now, while you've a notion to it ; 
Now, while zeal will help you do it ; 
Or in shame you'll hobble through it. 

Out of time. 

If you have a word of praise^ 



Should the ■ky, while flowers are growing. 
Stint its gracious dew-bestowing. 
Ne'er would come the rainbow-glowing 
Blossom time. 

If you have a kiss to glye, 

Now's the time ! 
Lips, like flowers, soon are faded. 
Life-blood pallid, checked, and Jaded, 
If they are not love-o'ershaded, 

Kissed in time. 

If you have a prayer to pray, 

Now's the time ! 
Not to every hour are given 
Upward look and open heaven ; 
Oh, be strengthened, gladdened, shriven. 

While there's time! 


On my window-sill flirted a jaunty Jay ; 
lie chattered awhile, then he flew away. 
He chattered awhile, as If to say : 
"Don't you wish you could live in the day, — 
in the day? 
Don't you wish you were little enough to be 


Fly oway ! Fly away !" 
Said the jubilant. Jolly, and Jaunty Jay. 


[Written during tho railroad broak-down In 
Ch^ midst of the World War] 

We have starve<l the steam horse 

On the merest clap-traps. 
And In logical counM> 

It has had a collapse. 

It Is weary and old. 

And It ntMMlH th«' l>eMt care; 

Its ffxldfr Ih gold. 

We havv fi>d It hot air. 

We have drUrn It fast 

With thf Hp«*<Milng that racks; 

It biK fiilb'n at last 
lu Its parallel tracks. 

W4' have ble<l it with bills. 

We have cut It with strikes. 
Till It r4N*letr In ItM thills 

And lay down on the spikes. 

We may lash It with greed 
To the top of our l>ent ; 
What if wants Is its feed 
fff the proper per ceat. 

Let us call Dr. Rate, 

Let tis give him free course ; 
If It isn't too late. 

We shall get back our horae. 


Where are the dimples that die In the mak- 
Where la the Joke that got stuck In the 
tongue ? 
Where hide the stars when the day la 
Where waits the ditty that next will be 

What does become of the sweet baby faces? 

Where do the rainbows lie folded away? 
How does the light that gets caught in dark 

Ever creep back to the land of the day? 

Where is the bird-song that Just rippled by 
Where go my aches when the playtime is 
Whence is the health that the kind hours 
supply me? 
Where are the days that are coming next 

Hither, ye sages, from Zealand to Poland ! 

He who will wisely these riddles explain. 
He's to be king of the country of Noland. 

Dwelling in beautiful castles of Spain ! 


Dainty Kate Greenaway lassie, and brlgtit 

little Greenaway lad. 
Where did you get your gay raiment, and 

pray, is there more to be had? 
How can the rest of us mortals, homely and 

cluniKy and queor, 
(trow to l>e Greenaway people through all the 

fair (tr«'enaway year? 
Hark ! I will whlsi>er the secn^t. I^ook at 

the evergreen tree. 
Fresh in the ^pruceMt of garments whatever 

the s«*ason may be ; 
Ready for nests In the springtime, ready for 

c«meit In the fall. 
Ready for candleii in winter, the merrlem 

season of all ! 
Ho will the lads and the lassies, and so will 

the women and men. 
Just by the doing of kindnesses, gladly. 

again and again. 
<tet them the evergreen garments that ahlne 

with a l>eauty untold : 
Thry are the <freen-a(l)way people, that 

never grow wrinkled and old ! 



"Tbe gospel 1b the bread of life," 

1 heanl a preacher mutter ; 
"The goipcl Is the bread of lite, 

And bread la aerved witb — batter. 

"Yet some men preach Ibe UvlDg word 

And grace have they sans graclousnesa, 
Tbe bread without the Uutler. 

"Abd otbera. while the; preach tbe trath, 

Tbat truth balf-bearted utter; 

Tbelt faith la lacking coufldebce, 

Their bread la lacking butter. 

"The truth tbat eaves a sinful maa 
From brothel, bar, and gutter, 
la truth tbat lovea aod truth that darea; 
Tbe bread — and alao butter." 


The ocean !■ a dream of peace. 

On hllla o( calm the aunablne 

All la a-thrill with sweet release 

The sea-front crested black with pines 
Glimmers beneath with golden sands. 

And all Its gentle carving shines 
With grace of happy lands. 

So doublf b 

With ImB 

Like some p 

Like some pure, bumble, teudet ta< 
That ecboes others' Soya alone, 

Until those mlrrorlDgs of grace 
Become Ita very own. 





Oh« the fog is abroad, 

And the landscape is marred, — 

But the sun 's in the east ! 
And the mist will soon quiver and rise 
And dissolve to the green of the wood and the 
blue of the skies. 

For the sun *s in the east. 

Not a song of a bird 

Or a child-note is beard, — 

But the sun *s in the east ! 
And a thrill will soon break from the trees, 
And the merriest babble of children join 
carol with these. 

For the sun 's in the cast. 

Now arouse thee, my soul. 
In the gloom and the dole. 

For the sun 's in the east ! 
What to thee though the darkness be dumb? 
There's a music, a splendor, a heaven of 
glory to come. 

While the sun 's in the east ! 


When daylight came. 
After the night of maddening unrest 
Deciding which was better, which was best. 
And how at last 1 should assail the Rteep, 
Ah me ! I was all sodden and asleep 

When daylight came. 

The night for sleep ! 
Though clouds may overhang and storms may 

And all the morrow's way you may not know. 
Oblivion, and trusting quietness. 
These covered pathways lead to bright sue* 

The night for sleep ! 


Country of freedom, lie free in thy heart : 
Free from the shackles of prisoning pride. 
Free from the liar's contemptible art. 
Free from allurements that tempt thee aside. 
Free from the crafty and treacherous guide. 
Free from the ravening greed of the mart, 
Free from the snares that in opulence hide. — 
Country of freedom, be free In thy heart ! 

Country of freedom. And freedom for all : 
Freedom for thinkers* adventurous quest. 
Freedom for greatness to spring from the 

Freedom for l>etter to grow to the best. 
Freedom for JuNtice'N rigorous test. 
Freedom for progress in but and in hall, 

Freedom for labor's unwearying seat, — 
Country of freedom, be free for them all ! 

Country of freedom, be free for the earth : 
Over the bloody and desperate main. 
Far in the regions of darkness and dearth. 
Challenge the tyrant's unmerciful reign. 
Pierce to the heart of his evil domain. 
Win for thy brothers the lands of their birth. 
Shatter the prison and sever the chain, — 
Country of freedom, be free for the earth! 


Twas the gayest lawn-mower that ever waa 

Its body was red and Its handle waa green. 
It ran on the lawn for the most of the day. 
And oh ! how it rattled and clattered away 1 
It had a wide mouth and a long, twiated 

And this is the song that the lawn-mower 

sung : 

"Ke-clickety, dickety, clickety, klot ! 
The work, it is hard, and the day. It Is hot. 
But Susie will like it, the dear Uttle laaa : 
How happy she is in the newly cut graaa ! 
It's good for her tennis and good for croquet. 
And gladly for Susie I'll labor away 
With my clickety. clickety. klot ! 

"Ke clickety, clickety, clickety, klot ! 
The work, it is hard, and the day. It la hot. 
And Charley, the lad who Is pushing me now. 
He carries a terrible frown on his brow. 
For Charley is lasy and Charley 's a shirk. 
But spite of it all I must stick to my work 
With my clickety, clickety. klot ! 

•Ke-clickety. clickety, clickety, klot ! 
The work, it is hard, and the day. It is hot« 
But all of the sparrows are grateful to me. 
And all of the robins are coming, you ace. 
Th(> crickets and worms they can easily apj. 
So they pounce on their dinner when I have 
gone by 
With my clickety, clickety. klot ! 

•Ke-clickety, clickety, clickety, klot ! 
The work, it is hard, and the day. It Is hot. 
And down In th«> grass, when I listen, 1 hear 
The grasshoppers squeaking, half crasy with 

The ants and the worms and the katydlda 

To hear me come clattering on overhead 
With my clickety, clickety. klot! 

•*K«*-cllckety. clickety. clickety. klot! 
The work. It Is hanl. and the day. It Is hot. 
O Charley, and crickets, and ants, and the 



I*d like to please all, but I'm doing my best. 
As long as I work I am happy and gay. 
And so I keep pegging and pegging away 
With my cUckety, clickety, klot !' 



"Why Is the four-leaved cloyer more lucky 
than the three?" 
I questioned Master Greedy, and thus he 
answered me : 
"It's because the four-leaved clover so crafty 
Is and bold. 
It has an extra hand, sir, to grasp the sun- 
shine gold." 

"Why is the four-leaved clover more lucky 
than the three?" 
I questioned Master Generous, and thus he 
answered me : 
*'It's because the four-leaved clover so kindly 
is and gay. 
It has an extra hand, sir, to give its gold 
away !" 


If God were less, oh, vastly less, 
I still would praise His name. 

So little of Him, I confess. 
Have I yet learned to claim. 

If God were more, oh, vastly more, 
So bold am I through grace 

I still would venture to adore. 
And press to see His face. 

But, whatsoe'er is dreamed or taught, 

I surely know that He 
Is far too little in my thought. 

Too great for scorn of me. 


Tour life is a tangle of fret and of fume? 

Just do a bit of good work. 
It will clear out the cobwebs and scatter the 

If you do a bit of good work. 
Like magic the wrinkles will vanish away. 
And worry will fly from the heart of the day, 
And sunshine will banish the ominous gray. 

When you do a bit of good work. 

The world is unfriendly, and you are alone? 

Just do a bit of good work. 
There's many a friendship has budded and 
About a bit of good work. 
The world hates a sluggard and bids him be 

The world loves a worker and runs to look on ; 
If a crowd you would gather, your overalls 

And do a bit of good work. 

Temptations assail you and lure you to sin? 

Just do a bit of good work. 
The battle is ended if you will begin 

To do a bit of good work. 
For Satan, that ever-industrious foe. 
Is easily routed by hammer or hoe. 
And back to his demons the devil will go 

As you tackle a bit of good work. 


"Jesus Christ, who Is our hope." 

I like the sweet, old-fashioned phrase, 

"A living hope in Christ" ; 
How many saints of elder days 
It gloriously sufficed ! 

"A living hope" — why, then it breathes. 
And fashions kindly speech ; 
With cheery song its life enwreathes. 
With courage dares to teach. 

"A living hope" — ^why, then it walks. 
With steady step and swift. 
Where beggars crouch and evil stalks. 
And brings the needed gift. 

"A living hope" — it labors then. 
It laughs, and, pitying, sighs; 
It lives the life of earthly men, 
It lives — and never dies. 


"If any man will do His will." 

Around the world the chorus rings. 

And hands are Joined with hands ; 
A Brotherhood of Service sings 

In all the happy lands; 
And blithe they sound the watchword still 

That ever has sufficed : 
"The will ! the will ! the blessed will ! 

The will of Jesus Christ !" 

In crowded town or lonely plain, 

'Mid many friends or few. 
With man's applause or man's disdain, 

To one allegiance true. 
That sole desire their hearts could fill 

Though all the earth enticed : 
The will ! the will ! the precious will ! 

The will of Jesus Christ ! 

When proud Ambition gilds her goal. 
When Ease to slumber calls. 



When Milken Mammon lures the loul 

To ralnbow-tlnted hallH, 
The Brotherhood of Service still 

Exalts the Pearl unpriced : 
The w4U ! the will ! the holy will ! 

The win of Jesus Christ ! 

And when at last the golden years 

Have brought the crowning day. 
When toil and trial, pain and fears. 

Forever pass away. 
Upon the summit of the hill 

Is One that keepeth tryst : 
'TIS He. the WMU ! the living Will ! 

Our Master, Jesus I'hrlst ! 

Jdk» U.IS. 

That barren nifcht in (talllee. 
It found a fruitful morning. 

For Jebus stood t>eside the sea 
And drew the fishes swarming. 

**Th€ Lortir — and IVter leaped to swim. 
(How very like him this is!) 
The others labonnl after hira. 
Pulling the net with fishes. 

And both were fine and l>oth were true. 
And lH)th rejoiced the Master, — 

That frugal, plodding, faithful crew, 
The one that hurrlint faster. 

O ye who long for brilliant dee<lH 
Tied down to washing dishes. 

Scorn not the lowly household needs, — 
They are the Master's fishes. 

For Jim, he twists his garments. 
His garments, they twist him. 

If Jim would wear "the hew nun,** 
That coat cut straight and true. 

On Sundays and on week-days, 
I think he'd straighten, too! 


Be kingly prodigal of time, for use 
In God*s sweet service. *ns a Jealous cmae 
That holds thy life from lovers anointing wide. 
Shatter It grandly. See! an eager tide 
Of fragrance and of healing ministries. 
Wrought on the Lord if on "the least of 

these" ; 
And see! the ragged edge, the flakes fallen 

Form, at Ills word, thine alabaster crown ! 

JI.MS (X)AT8. 

When Jim has got a new coat. 

It niakeH hlH Sunday wvar; 
But for his bi»me or office.- - 

Tht> old coat answers th«>re. 
WbfU Jim "put on the new man." 

'TwiiK Sumlay wear for bim ; 
Th«' »irh«T days* "the ol<l mnn" 

WuH ko<m1 enough for Jim. 

When Jim has got a new coat. 

Who evi*r would Im«IIi«v»' 
To-doy he'd wear the collar. 

To-morrow wear the sb'eve? 
But when Jim wears "the new man.* 

ill* thinks it is no crime 
To cut thnt coat snd wear It 

A little at a time. 

Now Jlm'M old coat Is crooked. 
And rnM»ke<l, toti, Is Jim ; 


The extraordinary elephant climbed on the 

And hung there by his knees 
In a manner sore to please. 
While a wondering crowd gathered soon aboat. 
The monkey, when he heard their admiring 

Upon a high trapese, 
W*lth the very greatest ease. 
Hanging by his tail, whirled around and In 

and out. 
But in vain Is all his skill, for the wise crowd 

only se«»s 
The extraordinary elephant hanging by his 


Glory of our country. 

All her shining worth, 
I>(»se it In the glory 

Of the circling earth. 

RlcheK of our country. 

Store of gold and ct)m. 
Spend It on the nations 

Fainting and forlorn. 

Power of our c^wintry. 

Mighty hearts and hands. 
Add it to the weakness 

Of the lesser lands. 

Wisdom of our country. 

Sage Id Arm rcmtrol. 
Merge It in the thinking 

Of the human whole. 

Future of our country. 
Blessedly unfurled. 



Find it in the future 
Of tbe happy world. 

Nevermore our country : 
Splendidly resigned, 

Die to larger living. 
Nation of mankind! 


If it were not so I would have told you. 
"John U:». 

We know the worst — the darkest doom 
That lies beyond the sinner's tomb, 
The long, black agonies of hell 
That loving Voice spared not to tell. 

The merest gleam of heaven sufficed 
Heaven's Herald, the revealing Christ; 
But sin He showed, and penalty, 
How faithfully ! how anxiously ! 

As when a father sends his son 
Out in the clashing world alone. 
He warns him of the evil there, 
Nor stays to picture what is fair. 

What glories, then, what mysteries. 
Lie in the Saviour's silences ! 
What bliss we could not have believed. 
Eye hath not seen nor mind conceived! 

The dearest wish, the fondest hope, 
The fair ideal's farthest scope. 
No longer doubt, but dare to know ; 
He would have said, were these not so 


Mysterious, my country ! — she abides 
Within a thousand hidings. Queen is she, 
But who can find her palace, or discern 
With careless eye her royal progresses? 
For she it is that cheers the battle on. 
Where brave men die, or bravely live, for her ; 
But who of all her warriors ever saw 
Her whirling chariot or flying steeds? 
Yet none so witless bom or sodden grown 
As never to have seen her, half-disclosed, — 
Some floating glimpses of her gracious form, — 
And, brooding like a lover, ^awn them all 
To one imperial image. 

In her flelds, 
High-bladed, and her leagues of fruitful sun. 
Where happy farm-lands breathe content to 

I feel her breath upon me. Lo, her woods, 
Uncounted empires of majestic calm. 
Range wide and far ; her rivers to the sea. 
Like weavers' shuttles curving swiftly down. 

Fashion a web of loveliness ; her hills, 
Upreared with welcoming green or craggy 

Compel tbe tribute of a fleet of clouds ; 
And sometimes, through a parting of the 

Her raiment gleams ; and sometimes on a hill 
Through drifting inists I see her shining 


All other skies than hers are empty masks. 
Though painted fair as Eden. Lands afar. 
Their glittering vales heaped high with golden 

I praise like statues, — ^praise, and cannot love. 
Yet everywhere beneath my country's skies 
I bear the sense of blessing, surely know 
Her eyes behold me though I see them not. 
And know her voice although I cannot hear. 
And on some crystal days of clarity 
I win the t>cnediction of her face. 

But these are glimpses, beautiful and rare. 
And better far I know my country's form 
And see her image : 'tis with living men. 
With toiling, mourning, laughing, lowly men. 
With blundering men that weep for many a 

I find my country dwelling, best content. 
Yes, where the market chatters have I found 
My country, and upon the clashing street. 
And in the mines that pour their gleaming 

Like sunshine out of midnight, and in mills 
Trembling beneath the cruel lash of greed. 
And on the hurrying cars that house the 

Of Croesus in a day ; yes, even there. 
Amid the heartless mockeries of trade, 
There where the very gold and massy steel 
Are freighted with pollution, and the warp 
Of every fabric hides the worm of death. 
My country dwells, because her sons are there. 
And men that honor justice. 

I have seen 
Flashes of her where mothers kiss their babes. 
Where lovers know the joy that empties 

In yonder lad's ambition-brooding eye. 
And in ihis father, worn, and gladly worn, 
For grateful offspring ; here my country lives. 
And where the ploughman carols to his plough. 
My country sings; and where the weakling 

Protected, and the poor man stands erect. 
And little children carry merry hearts 
As blessed as their birthright, — here she 

And has her pride, my country. 

Every youth 
That cherishes a masterful design, 
And every girl that blossoms to a home 




In all these borders, forms a soTereign state 
Confederate of ray coantry. Not a fire 
Burning upon a pure and happy hearth 
But shalceis her banner forth. Where true men 

Brave and contented to their daily toil, 
There march her armies. Where the favored 

Bears such a true raan to a foreign shore. 
My country goes abroad. Whene'er a home 
In all her wide estate is magnified 
By the sweet l>aby-promise of a man. 
My country is enlarged ; and where two 

Drawn close to one another by the ties 
Of love and helpfulness, strilce hand with 

My country gains a strength ; yes, whensoe'er 
The lonely heart most humble of them all 
Achieves the smallest deed of Icindllness, 
My country wins a grace. 

There is a bond 
Encircling us that linow a common sun ; 
It is my country's arm. There Ih a light 
Plashed on a face when freedom's name Is 

heard ; 
That light was bom within my country's eyes. 
And there are sacre<l thoughts of God and 

Of reverence and justice, pulHing far 
Upon our mountains and along our plains: 
And where they run, there flows my country's 


Oh, may it flow forever free from taint I 

And when the silent envoy calls us home 

From thiH our beauteous exile, and we go 

To And a better country in the sicies. 

By all go<Kl tokens may we know it ours! — 

Discerning in the facv of that fair land 

The power and l>eauty we would fain have 

Upon the wrists and sweet, beloved brow 
Of this, our earthly country. 

For in dreams, — 
8uch dreams as may t»e truer than our sight, — 
Behold, thnne parte<f countries are Init one. 
Our birth-land and the land of endless years. 
In earth, in heaven ; as the shining cloudN, 
field by a bond unseen, are ever one 
With their dull shadows lying on the hills. 


Whether a cold can be readily caught 
Depends on thr manner in which it Is sought. 
Run for it. hard, till you waver and tire. 
You'll never catch It. howe'er you pentpire. 
Ah. but sit down in that pitiful sUte. — 
Lo! you will catch it with ease, **while you 
ms/r. " 


When North and South, with purpose strong 

To rout the evil, right the wrong. 

For Cuba's liberty combined 

And fought with single might and mind. 

Then not alone the Spaniard fell. 

But our internal foe as well, — 

The long distrust of North and South, 

Bom at the cannon*s foaming mouth; 

At once we set the Cuban free. 

And bound ourselves in unity. 

And thus, O churches sadly rent 
From that One Church our Master meant, 
*Ti8 thus our union will return. 
When holy fires within us bum. 
When, free ourselves, we long to make 
Our brothers free for Jesus' sake. 
When bold reforms and missions seise 
On all our living sympathies ; 
Thus joined to wage a goodly fight. 
Thus, and thus only, we'll unite. 


The foolish flamingo she looked In the glass. 

Aht foolish flamingo! 
She fell in love with herself, alas! 

Ah, foolish flamingo! 
Her beaux all exclaimed as they left In a 

"The bird has one lover, and one Is enough 

Ah, foolish flamingo! 


A Marching Song of the World War. 

Now for the world we dare to fight. 
Now for the world with all our might. 
Now for the world, to make It right, — 
God save the world! 

Down with the despots, pull them down. 
Shameful sceptre and cruel crown ; 
Up with leaders of just renown, 
God save the world! 

Banish cowardice, doubt, and fear. 
This, this, this Is the golden year. 
Here is redemption, now and here, 
God save the world! 

Who for liberty dares to die? 
Who fur brotherhood far and high? 
I, God helping me, I, I. I ! 
iUnl save the world ! 

Comrades resolute, comrades true. 
Ours Is the chance t(» put it through. 
This, (}<m1 helping us. this we'll do. — 
God save the world ! 




You dainty, ardent little preacher, 

Tour pulpit some low level limb, 
And **Teacher, Tecch^r, Teacher, TEACHER !** 

Your only sermon, prayer, and hymn ; 
It is a sermon wortii the hearing, 

As eagerly you carol it ; 
You bid us banish doubt and fearing. 

And live a life of grace and grit. 

Who is the teacher you are praising, 

Your body vibrant with the word? 
And what His lesson most amazing 

That so exalts a tiny bird? 
Who can it be but He whose glory 

Pills and illumes the summer wood, 
Of all whose work is but one story. 

That it is loving, strong, and good? 

Sly-hidden on the ground below you, 

A wondrous oven-arching nest. 
He was the Teacher wise to show you 

Just how and where to build it best. 
The little mate — He led you to her. 

Of all the birds, below, above ; 
He filled your heart with zeal to woo her. 

And taught the one great lesson, love. 

No wonder all your feathers quiver 

Ek*fltatic with your sermon-song; 
Did ever orator deliver 

A speech more vigorous and strong? 
Ah, dear and fervent little preacher. 

Great spirit in a body small, 
Your "Teacher, rea<?lier,TEACHEB,TEACHER !" 

Shall be the Teacher of us all. 


Matthew, the Gospel of the Publican ! — 
The man that made his notes, and kept ac- 
And balanced proofs of ancient prophecy ; 
The officer of cold, rapacious Rome 
That found a better kingdom and its laws, 
And heard its charter published on the Mount 
Or by^^l^e sea or in the city streets. 
And wiote it down in orderly array, — 
Matthew, the Gospel of the Mouth of Christ ! 

And Mark, the eager Gospel of the Youth ! — 
Fresh from old Peter's ready, salty lips, 
And leaping lightly through a rapid course ; 
The wtartled record of the miracles, 
Of opened eyes, and dead restored to life. 
And earn unstopped, and water walked upon. 
And lepers cleansed, and cripples made to run. 
And frantic maniacs calmed to sanity, — 
Swift Mark, the Gospel of the Hand of Christ ! 

Luke, the Physician's Gospel ! — comforting. 
Gracious, and tender; laying gentle touch 

Upon the festering anguish of the world, 
Our poverty and misery and sin, 
It binds the gaping wounds of wretched men. 
Pouring in oil and wine; its ministries 
Halt at no bounds of nation or of race, 
But offer healing to a world diseased, — 
Kind Luke, the Gospel of the Heart of Christ ! 

And John, the Gospel of the Best Beloved ! — 
Of him who leaned upon the breast of Christ, 
And heard His whisperings and knew His 

thoughts ; 
The Gospel of the Vision, piercing far 
To time's beginning with the Son of God, 
And deep into the blackness of the world. 
And high into the mysteries of heaven, 
And finding everywhere the Father's love, — 
Ah, John, the Gospel of the Soul of Christ ! 


Where waits it all, — the truth and purity. 
The great-winged peace, the crowding happi- 
The love unmarred by thought of more )ind 

less ; 
Past what far reaches of the starry sea 
Lies Thy sweet kingdom, Lord? And when 

shall we. 
Tired eyes strained upward from our mean 

Behold the sudden burst of blessedness. 
Thy kingdom come upon humanity? 
Ah, sure, my child, as in thy lips' full curve 
The smile is hidden, sure as waits the seed 
The beck of sunshine, and earth's forces 

With proper talisman, so sure my creed : 
Christ's kingdom comes — though not as nu>n 

observe — 
At call of every loving thought and deed. 


Earth never saw a tree more monstrous 
made — 
Purple leaves dropsical and oozing blood. 
Tborned with a snarl of steel, and as for 
A fetid smoke outpoured. 

A warty stem in tumid branches split. 

Nest of a carrion bird befouled with filth. 
The tree a-groan, and rotting under it 

A sodden meadow's tilth. 

Yet still, ah, still, forth from the reeking 

I^ ! a white blossom, pure as God above, 
Lily of freedom ; and beside it now 

The to«»i ol ^Q>aL\Ati-\Qis^, 





, nn 


Who Mj 

le baaku 

ol Xhe n 

er Nile, 

And br 


wed H £ 

b wllh 1 


While bl 


Tba ambltloui ant wauld ■traTelllDg ss 

To we Ihfl pyramid'! wonttcrful ihow. 

He croHcd  bTook and a field of rje. 

And came to tbe tool ot a bBTBiaek blgh. 
'■Ab ! wonderful prramld '." tben cried be ; 
"How glad 1 am that I croued the laa r' 




Oh, the freshness of the morning, and the 

glory of the noon. 
And the splendor of the night-tide with the 

holy stars In tune! 
The ground has voice, the trees rejoice, the 

birds their carol bring, 
And I alone among them all have not a song 

to sing. 

There's music In the cloud-drifts, there's a 

chorus In the flowers. 
There's a 83'mphony of fragrance through the 

pleasant summer hours. 
And mountain-top to mountain-top flings out 

a mighty song, 
While I olone am coldly dumb amid this 

chanting throng. 

Awake, O God, my sluggish soul and stir my 
tongue to praise. 

I^t loving, loyal anthems rise from all my 
nights and days. 

Lord, talce away my shame among this soul- 
less, singing host ; 

I know Thee better far than these ; oh, let 
me praise Thee most ! 


[Written several years before the invention 
of wireless teleerraphy.] 

It was on the good Dominion, of the famed 
Dominion Line, 

As she ploughed her flckle furrow through the 
blue Atlantic brine. 

Seven days of sober travel, and a very wel* 
come face 

Was that rather previous headland, home- 
predicting, dear Cape Race. 

For the time was hanging heavy as the line 
of heavy smoke; 

To the last remaining victim bad been told 
the final joke; 

All the songs were worn to tatters ; shuffle- 
board was shuffled out ; 

And the mild, precarious ring-toss could not 
raise a single shout ; 

Ancf the queer, contracted cricket, though the 
ladies won the score. 

Got the cramps in both its wickets, and it was 
a "go" no more. 

Yes, the novels all were finished, and the 
yams had all been spun. 

And the nautical flirtations were becoming 

And the spouting of the whales had grown 
to be a tiresome tale. 

And the thrill had all departed from the ad- 
ventitious sail. 

And It could not well be doubted, though we 

played at gayety, 
Not a board In all the vessel was so truly 

bored as we. 

'Twas at this strategic moment that a seaman 

blue and brave 
Spied a very curious object bobbing toward 

us on a wave ; 
Half it seemed a human being, half a crea- 
ture of the deep. 
And the sailor murmured, "Blow me ! am I 

wlking or asleep?" 
But he threw a life-line at it, as the creature 

seemed to wish. 
And he hauled it on the vessel much as he 

would land a fish. 
Then we gathered all about it as it lay upon 

the deck. 
With a trickle of green water running from 

its feet and neck. 
With a sea moss kind of garment and a sea- 
weed sort of hair. 
While its hands and feet were flippers, very 

wet and very bare. 
And one eye was like a ruby and the other 

green as grass. 
And Its oozy, matted whiskers were a mo»t 

unpleasant mass. 
And we had no time for guessing, and we had 

no need to speak. 
For the Thing itself addressed us, in a high 

and shivery squeak. 

"Hee, good people," thus it chattered, "well 

for you you don't refuse 
To receive me on your vessel. I'm the Nlxy 

of the News. 
In my home upon the Banks there, sixty 

fathoms down it is, 
I've a transatlantic cable beats the. one of 

For a line I use a million Interlooped electric 

And the news of all the continents my in- 
strument reveals. 
So take me to a cabin, folks, and enter one 

by one ; 
I'll give you each a word from home before 

the day is done." 

Then shouted that home-hungry crowd, and 

with a merry din 
They chose the festive smoking-room and bore 

the creature in. 
They heeded not the slimy rills that down the 

sofa ran, 
But eagerly the women came, and eager 

every man. 
And as the purser called the roll, that none 

his turn should lose. 
Old, young, man, maid, they pressed to hoar 

the N\xi ^1 XXi^'^^^^. 



How the prompt Interrogations leaped upon 
the anxious tongue ! 

Hopes and fears and Joys and sorrows, aii 
that poet ever sung, 

Heart endured or sought or cherished, fail- 
ure, triumph, bliss, or doom. 

How the whole, weird human medley thrilled 
in thot inquiry room ! 

Now the whisper of a lover : "Shall I find 
her? find her true?" 

Now a merchant asking anxious for his ven- 
ture in Peru ; 

Now a trembling voice that quivered : **My 
sick mother? Yet alive?" 

Now a speculator's challenge : "Wheat at 
ninety ? — ninety-five ?" 

Or a solemn-headed statesman who would 
know how China fares. 

Or u priest with careful query for his ouay 
parijth cares. 

Or a criminal that stammered : "Do they 
know where I have fled?" 

Or a lad would know of Nelly or a lass would 
know of Ned. 

Old and young and man and maiden, answer 
meet they all received. 

Answera sealed by truthful tokens they ac- 
cepted and believed. 

One by one they left the Nizy on his sofa 
weird and wet. 

And full many a face was smiling and full 
many a face was set ; 

Brows with sudden cares were furrowed, 
hearts were tense with sudden woe. 

And of all eyes those were saddest where the 
tear-drops did not flow ; 

Till the ISNt pale face had entered, and the 
last white face come forth. 

And the week's enfranchised vessel touched 
once mure the groaning earth. 

Still we hung about the cabin, and we glow- 
ered at the door, 

Half in stupor at the tidings, half in hope of 
something more. 

Till there grew a Hullen murmur in that sad- 
dened, gladdened crowd, 

(tr(*w a murmur to a clamor that would not 
t»e disallowed : 

"What's the proflt, what's the profit, here in 
nil this waMtc of sea, — 

Where's the gain from this foreknowing of 
our Joy and misery? 

'Twill In* madneHS. very madnt^sn. three full 
days to Journey here 

With the crape iN'fore our eye^ and the dirges 
in our ear. 

Knowing fallur«\ knowing triumph, having 
kii<iwle<lge without {Hiwer. 

IIelplri«<*. idle. — when''H the profit of this 

niiH<-hi«*f-mnklng hour? 
Uptrn. tip)rlt. hAlrful Bplrif. we entreat you, 
m-f ttJ>tnmaod, — 

Change your cruel gift to kindneaa! Bring 
us instantly to land !" 

With this angry cry imperious sprang we 
forward to the door. 

And we found the sodden sofa and the slime 
upon the floor, 

But we found the sofa empty, and the crea- 
ture was not there. 

And nothing but a mocking laugh that shook 
along the air; 

Yes, nothing but an empty sneer that mock- 
ing seemed to say : 

"You fools, that want to-morrow I Haw hmP€ 
you u»ed today t" 


My body is the temple of my Ood, 

For He has said it ! Well or poorly kept. 

My glory or disgrace, a fair abode 

Or dismal foulness, still my God is there. 

And every deed I do or thought I think 

Makes record on the temple instantly : 

No temperance but clears a window pane. 

No self-denial but wipes up the dust. 

No burst of laughter but admits fresh air. 

No generous deed but sweeps a cobweb down. 

No loving word but fills a vase with flowers! 

Better than sceptre and a royal robe 

To bear the broom and use the cleuiliic^ 

A Janitor within the house of God ! 


Never is man a man. 

Though he rage the world around. 
Till the soul he should help, in Jehovah's 

He has sought like a man, and found ; 
And never a nation Is more than dirt. 

Dirt and a burden of men. 
Till it finds a people with deadly hurt. 

And back to safety, and back to hope. 

And back to freedom's imperial scope 
It lifu the people again. 

I4ind of my faith and love! 

Though the cynic flout and sneer. 
The rebuke or the praise of the I>ord above 

Shall alone be your lH>on or fear. 
What neiMl has my nation to reach and M>ise 

KurdenN of subjects and soil? 
Not thpMs though the slanderous scout, not 

Ilut Kittvoa set free, and the hungry fed. 

And orphona sheltered and comforted, 
\\v them* our l»ooty and sfwll ! 

Nut to Im» cslleil a Power. 
That the cringing world should kneel. 



Nor to Bit where the masterful nations lower 
In their castles of threatening steel, 

But here where the tyrant has whip in air. 
Yonder where dungeons are red. 

On the serf at toil, the oppressed at prayer. 
To place the crown of a man's desire. 
And establish his throne by a household fire. 
For this may our arms be sped ! 

Tes, and if power mean peace. 

And the army move for God, 
And if freedom increase as our ships increase. 

And the ground where our troops have trod 
Shall ring, as our armies encompass it. 

With broken fetters and chains. 
Then the rank of war is Jehovah's writ. 

The moving text of the lord's decree 

Proclaiming clear to the land, to the sea. 
What God enacts and ordains. 


Gaily afield, this morning of the skies. 
From earth's wide bowl a blessM draught I 

draw, — 
Air of the hilltops ! air the sun first saw 
Dimpling to greet him ; air that flits and flies 
From where the pond to where the meadow 

Crystalline air, that has no fledc or flaw ; 
Runaway air, itself its own best law. 
Wild as the brooks from upland rocks that 

Bring me, sweet air, the courage of the hills. 
A weary day 's before me : murmur low 
The meadow-charm that masters frets and 

The healthful secret that the woodlands know. 
With all the daring joy of mountain rills 
Into my surly, stagnant living flow ! 


Is God the Lord to be your shield? 

Then keep Him aye before you, 
And follow Him to any field. 

His banner ever o'er you. 

No shield is He to those who fall 
Fainthearted far behind Him ; 

But hold Him firmly over all, 
And to their bosom bind Him. 

Nor shield is He to those who tread 
Presumptuously before Him, 

By proud and idle fancy led 
All heedless to ignore Him. 

Bat follow where He leads the way 
And bind Him closely to you ; 

And God will be your shield for aye. 
Nor mii^tlest foe undo you. 


Beneath her letter's frigid form. 
For other eyes than mine expressed, 

I read a message dear and warm, 
A palimpsest ! 


Ghosts of dead rainbows dancing through the 

All heaven quivering to their noiseless feet. 
Hand held in hand in eager circles fleet. 
Sharp phalanxes that pierce, and darts that 


And ranks that shiver up to where on high 

Spirits of light and ghosts of color meet 

In a trembling phantom heart, whose pulses 

With pallid beauty, palpitate, and die. 

Sun of my soul, great Lord of life and light. 
Thy noonday splendor sends me to my task 
And turns my earth-besotted eyes from Thee ; 
But here, in this mysterious dream of night. 
Behind a wavering, dim, and spectral mask, 
Worshipful Father, Thy great Self I see. 


Oft as I leave my home for dally duties 

A sudden strange foreboding fllls my heart ; 
Turning, I gaze upon its homely beauties 

While foolish fancies start : 
Fancies of flaming walls, of mournful embers. 

Of funeral ashes waiting my return. 
And all the sadness of bereft Decembers 

Comes as I pause and yearn. 

Oft as I look upon our household darling. 

Or see my wife move gracious through the 
The one as madly merry as a starling. 

The other calm alway, 
I hear — ah, silly brooding! — but I hear it, 

A tolling bell would tear my very life. 
And see beyond me in the land of spirit 

My baby and my wife. 

Mere empty moods! and yet who does not 
know them. 
And shudder while he owns their emptiness ; 
And who. In second thinking, does not owe 
More than he dares confess? — 
A softened heart, a soul more bent on kind- 
A vision that in trusting prospect sees. 
Spite of the thronging world and mortal 
God's glad et.«ciiU\ftm\ 




Tbe western sun comes softly In 

Through ball door open wide. 
Young Uover lies with low-stretched chin 

Upon the steps outside. 
The great hall clock ticks sleepily ; 

A hint of clucking hen 
Comes from the yard uncertainly. 

Then all is still again. 

But hark ! A hanging of the gate ! 

A clatter up the walk ! 
A tangle of blithe sounds elate 

In song and laugh and talk ! 
Loud strikes the clock, the chickens flee, 

Rover 's a frantic fool ; 
The very sunshine laughs to see 

The children home from school ! 


I met a man of aspect wise 

Engaged in catching butterflies. 
**A gorgeous boz-fuU. friend/' quoth 1. 
"Now for what purpose sage and high 

Didst catch this lovely company?" 
**That I might have them," answered he. 

I saw a man with eager eyes 
In bookstores hunting for a prise 
Hid in the dim and dusty nooks. — 
Some rare, forgotten, worthless books. 
"What is their use. my friend, to thee?" 
"That I may have them," answered he. 

I met a weary, haggard elf 
AI»sorbed in reckoning up his pelf; 
As, so much gain, and so much cost. 
And so much, so much, so mui-h lost. 

•*What Joy from all your golden tide?" 

••That I may have It." he replied. 

I met a man of busy hands. 

With wealth of books and friends and lands. 

Yet ever se«'king some new task 

Or helpful service. "Friend," I ask, 
"Why do you toil so ceaselessly?" 
'That men may have me," answers he. 


This — after nineteen centuries of Christ ! 

Only the primal instincts, bad and good. 
The priiiinl heart that primal hate sufficed. 

And not the hero-heart of brotherhood. 

We murder men in vast and mwlern ways ; 

We cram with death the water, earth, and 
But still we flounder In primeval haie. 

And still our fort Is hot the cmvemaD's lair. 

We say that God is Love — and worship Might. 

We flatter Reason — then we spit on her. 
Praising the day. we turn to blackest night. 

And build our highway to a sepulchre. 

We prate of Law, but, lawless-hearted still. 

We get our Justice through the widow's 
We prate of Mind, and yet our vaunted will 

Achieves its way by brutal force alone. 

We boast of Progress : hear the orp^i^n^s cry. 
The wails of mother, sister, lover, wife! 

Full nineteen centuries, and still men die 
In antique orgies of archaic strife. 

The Better Way — how well, how well we 
know — 

That parts forever from the horrid past. 
O brothers. Join to end the ancient woe. 

And let this worst of warfare be tbe last ! 


The Twelve He chose ; and those He did not 
choose — 

Ah. did they know their loss? 
Did He Invite them, and did they refuse 

The offered crown and cross? 

And now in heaven, all the eons long. 

Does that supreme regret 
Pierce even through the glory and the song. 

And hush their voices yet? 

We cannot know ; but this we know full well. 

That us, our humble selves, 
Christ's loving voice, with all Its holy spell. 

Has counted into Twelves. 

"Will you be one?" He asks; "Will yon be 
one ?" 

Ah. eager, pleading voice ! 
On lower levels all our race Is nin 

If we reject His choice. 


Month of bluster. ic*e and sleet. 
Silent wtxMl and ugly street. 
Winds that roar and flakes that fly, 
Frosen earth and gloomy sky. — 
Angry March, thy name to me 
Like a battle-cry shall be! 
'Form'ard. march !*' lut leave behind 
HtubtK>rn will and stupid mind. 
'Form-ard. march !" and sing a song 
As we stoutly march along. 
•Forward, march !" away from sin ; 
'Forwanl. man'h !" the goal to win ; 
•Forward, march !" without a fear ; 
'Forward, march !" through all tbe year. 


Blithe little ■ODK-spSrrow, frleadly and 

FearleMljr. Hoclabljr carolllne near me, 
Varying ever the Boog that you alDg, 

Tet Blwajrs a nin Id It, 

Always the sua In II, 
Always good news In tbe greeting you bring. 

Oat ol what well do yon drew your coDtent- 

Bnoyant and brolherly, (ree i 

Where were yon taugbt your exbllarant long. 

With always a trill la It. 

NollilDg of 111 In It. 
Nothing but happlnesa trusting and strong? 

Modest brown body all barrPD of splendor. 
Heart oC all beauty outreaching and tender. 
Crowning the thicket wltb glory ot praise. 

And always a trill In It. — 

That Is tbe thrill In It,— 
Teach me tbe Joy ol your carolling dayal 


Tbe air Is full nf a witcbery, silent, nntelt. 

and uimeen : 
Xet It toDches tbe blsck pine woods, and they 

flash to a riot oF green ; 
It breathes on tbe dlOldent birches, and )o ! 

they are dancing In wblte. 
And It paints on tbe slopes of tbe barren 

fields « plelnre •>( delight. 

Ida n 

know what tl 

> magic Is, bat I think 

But. herself an noted, s touch, a breatb, 
where tbe sad and the aullen were, 

And the dark Is Ilgbt. and tbe gloom ta bright, 
at the very thought of ber. 

□agic is that dwells 




In the days of piracy 
What a cunM knave was be 
Who, to draw his victim near. 
Clothed his ship with garb of fear, — 
Sails in tattered wretchedness, — 
Flying signals of distress. 
Then, as unsuspecting ruth 
Lored a ship to that untruth. 
Sabre strol[e and musicet shot 
Were the thanks the saviors got. 

Thus, O God of eager love. 
Would my prayers Thy pity move; 
This my signal of distress : 
"Save me, Ix>rd, from guiltiness !'* 
Thus, my secret heart within 
Cleaving still to d«*adly sin, 
So do I, a cursM knave. 
Stab the God who comes to saTe. 


Oh, we must thank the I^rd for many things ; 
And loud for this uplift our hymn of praise. 
That Nature has not learned our human ways. 
Her blessings do not huddle with clipped 

But every lonely hill and valley sings 
And Hmilps and grows in the outpouring rays 
Of Nature's eager missionary days. 
And yiolds as freely as she fn'cly brings. 
I^raltte God who gave the light no eyes to find 
The highest market, and the flowers no ear 
For human compliments, and birds no mind 
To count what audleni'e their songs may hear ; 
And pray that all our happy human kind 
May fold In perfect love one perfect sphere. 


Heart songM and home songs 

In <!r<'ar and ch4'«'ry weather. 
And you. love, and 1, love. 

Hinging them tog(>ther. 
Tear fall and yfar fall. 

And time full handled ever. 
Yet heart songs and home songs. 

And you and 1 together. 

8we«>t iH the sunlight 

For giving and for getting. 
And sweet is the night, love. 

Wh(*n holy stars are setting. 
Byp light snd heart light. — 

Go<Ml-l>y to fear and fretting; 
For love knows a HunMhlne 

That never knows a setting. 

Heart songs and home songs. 
And you and I to sing thrm : 

Heart Joys and home joys. 
And happy years to brine them. 

Doubts come from demooa, — 
To deepest ocean fling them ; 

For life songs are love aoiiga. 
And yoQ and I moat sine them. 


Every year 's a hidden mine ; 

Stoutly up, and work It! 
What though anxious toll la thine? 

Never think to shirk It. 

Half the mine, as I am told. 

Harbors dust and aahes ; 
Half the mine Is precious gold, — 

Ah, how bright It flaahea I 

Sink the abaft of Lasy Mind. 

(What a dreadful bore, air!) 
Dust and ashes you will flnd. 

That, and nothing more, air! 

Sink the abaft of Earnest Heart, — 

I^, the treasure glancea. 
Gleaming gay In every part 

Where your pick adrances ! 

See. my lad, the New-Tear Mine 
Bright with promise-flaahea ! 

Will you dig for treaaure One, 
Or only dust and ashes Y 


I know a little laddie of a Tery prying mind : 
To make inveatigations he la wondroualy in- 
He must reach the topmoat branches of the 

very highest tree. 
Each paasing gay procession he is rlirhc on 

hand to see. 
The deepest inner tangle of the thldiest 

swamp he knows 
Each pel>ble of the brook haa felt the pres- 
sure of hlH toes. 
He rummages thrwigh all the house In aplte 

of locks and doors. 
The farthest, blackest cavern he most daunt 

lessly explores, 
lie mounts upon the house-top, and once be 

even fell 
(The result of peering over) to the bottom 

of the well. 
But. w<»p Is me! the teachers of this pnring 

ladille say 
That when he comes to books his paaalo« 

works snother way : 
For when he cims his text-books, in aplte of 

scold and frown. 
To get to the bottom of them he turns them 

u;*::ld« ilown ! 




I have written tbem, keen, and sarcastic, 
and long. 
With righteously wrathful intent, 
Not a stroke nndeserved nor a censure too 
strong ; 
And some, alas! some of them went! 

I have written them, challenging, eager to 
All hot with a merited ire ; 
And some of them chanced to be kept over- 
And mailed, the next day — in the flre ! 

Ah, blessed the letters that happily go 

On errands of kindliness bent ; 
But much of my peace and my fortune I owe 

To the letters I never have sent. 


O God, take the reins of my life ! 
I have driven it blindly, to left and to right. 
In mock of the rock, in the chasm's despite. 

Where the brambles were rife. 
In the blaze of the sun and the deadliest 
black of the night. 

O Ood, take the reins of my life ! 

For I am so weary and weak. 
My hands are a-quiver and so is my heart. 
And my eyes are too tired for the tear-drops 
to start. 
And the worn horses reek 
With the anguishing pull and the hot, heavy 
harness's smart. 
While I am all weary and weak. 

But Thou wilt be peace, wilt be power. 
Thy hand on the reins and Thine eye on the 

^ Shall be wisdom to guide and controlling to 
And my life, in that hour. 
Shall be led into leading, and rest when it 
comes to obey; 
For Thou wilt be peace and all power. 

Now, Lord, without tarrying, now ! 
While eyes can look up and while reason re- 
And my hand yet has strength to surrender 
the reins. 
Ere death stamp my brow 
And pour coldness and stillness through all 
the mad course of my veins — 
Come, Lord, without tarrying, now ! 

I yield Thee my place, which is Thine. 
Appoint me to lie on the chariot floor ; 

Tea, appoint me to lie at Thy feet, and no 
While the glad axles shine. 
And the happy wheels run on their course to 
the heavenly door, — 
Now Thou hast my place, which is Thine. 


The same old sin, with sickening return ; 
The same desires, that burn and bum and 

burn ; 
The same weak yielding and familiar shame ; 
But oh, thank God ! my Saviour is the same. 

The same old failure, now for many years 
Mocked with a feeble effort, fruitless tears ; 
The same excuses, impotent and lame ; 
But oh, praise Ood! for prayer is still the 

The same old sorrow, keen to quicken woe 
As when It first assailed me, long ago; 
The same old hidden pangs without a name ; 
But oh, praise God ! for heaven is still the 


I s'pose }ou think it queer, an' 't ain't no 

common thing, I know, 
To put a set of Dickins in a coffin, in a row ; 
But folks ha' got to think It queer, 'f they 

want to, so I say. 
For Mlrandy, the won't think It queer, an' 

I'm goin' to have m> way. 

But what am I a-doin' it for? Well, M'randy, 

M'randy '11 know, 
Aii(> where M'randy's body goes these Dickins 

books 'II go. 
I guess I know what my own wife 'ud like, 

as well as you ; 
Not that she wouldn't jes' delight in all 

those posies, too. 
But books, ah ! books was what she set most 

store by all her life. 
An' I guess there ain't no law again* my 

buryin' 'em with my wife. 

No, I won't use her old books; an' she only 
had a few. 

For she never, all her married life, she never 
bad none new. 

I s'pose I might ha' got 'em for her, but 
times has been so bad. 

An' farmers can't expect to have Jes' every- 
thing to be had, 

An' Imoks is so expensive, an' my windmills, 
an' my bees. 

New barns, an* threshers, orchards, ploughs; 
an' reapers, things like these 



They cost so mucb. I never could quite see 

my way wa8 clear 
To waste ten dollars on a set of Dlcklns, — 

yes. this hore ; 
For woiniii folks is cur'ous folks, an' wife, 

her mind was sot. 
As soon 's she saw 't, to have this set of 

Dlcklns, If or not. 

It's been at Brown's an' Co. in town for 

twelve year, more or less ; 
*Twas part of Home old bankrupt stock that 

Bruwn he bought, I guess. 
An' wife, her eyes was shlnin* as soon 's she 

saw it there. 
Like a hungry tramp that wants to grab 

some grub, an' doesn't dare. 
An' she began to tease me in that meekin* 

sort o* way 
That women take when they ain't sure but 

it ain't too much to pay ; 
Yet 1 kind o' sort o' promised that if crop* 

was gotMl that year 
8he might have that set o' Dlcklns, though 

it came most awful dear. 

An' wife set too much store on *t, for always 

after that. 
In all her shoppin*. wife she never failed o' 

looking at 
ThoHe DitkiuK. sort of anxious-like, as if she 

feared 'at they 
Might hap out o' the showcase an' get wings 

an" Hy away. 
But o' course there wa'n't no danger, for, as 

I told her, Krown 
Couldn't m'll such costly twoks as them to 

no one in the town. 

Well, crops was awful poor that year, an' 

liviu' awful high. 
An' there was Jones' ten-acre Held I really 

had to l>uy, 
For Jones was movin* West an' sellln* out 

tbingx for a song. 
An' I wouhfn't get another chance like that 

for g<MMl an' long : 
So the DickiuH had to wait a while, and wife 

lM>gan to cry. — 
At least her lips lM>gan to twitch an' a tear 

come In her eye ; 
Hut she chirked up when I hintcnl alKHit 

what St. Nick might bring. 
For wife hhe always made the tH*Ht of every 

mortal thing. 
An' «'o it went from year to year. for. nelgh- 

)N>r. as you know. 
There ain't no harder kind of row than farm- 
ers have to hm* : 
An' now 'twas this, an' now 'twas that — a 

• orn crib, or a bors*'. - 
For tbi* r.irni hjid got to 1h- kep' up. whatever 

%ia». of counH*. 

An' wife, she didn't say nothing, but I nw 

the wishful looks 
She couldn't help a-givln' to that set o' Dick- 
ins books. 
For I sort o' kind o' noticed that as sure 'a 

she had to go 
To town for onything, she always went to 

Brown an' Co. 
An* after she had sold her eggs an' butter. 

she would try 
An' edge 'round to that showcase an* aak 

some one on the sly 
If, seeln' they was gettln' old an* ruined. 

Mr. Brown 
Hadn't Just about decided to mark thoae 

Dickins down. 

I remember how her eyes shone when one 

day she found he had. 
An* her voice 'twas sort o* trembly, for all 

*twas sort o* glad. 
When she told me I could get *em for eight 

dollars an* a half. 
But Just then, as luck would have it. I had 

lost my Jersey calf, 
An* crops that year was awful poor, an* so I 

had to say 
That we really couldn't 'ford it. or. at least. 

not right away. 

An' M'randy went an' flred up, — ^yes, right 

theie in the store, — 
An* called me names, an' vowed she'd never 

say one morsel more 
About that set o' Dickins; an' my wife, she 

kep' her word. 
So far, at least, as tongue went, an* the 

things 'at could be heard ; 
But she couldn't help a-showin' her longin* 

in her eye 
Whenever, in her tradin', she passe<l those 

Dickins by. 

I meant to get 'em for her. yes. these twelve 

years a|Mist, 
But some way every year, it seemed, was 

hanler than the last. 
It wa'n't tH>ciius«> I didn't want to please 

her. for I tried. 
An' I J4M«' was 'Itout to buy *em when M'randjr 

- M'randy — died. 

Oh. M*randy was a good wife, as clever as 

could l>e. 
Tlu*S4> twenty years Hhe's slaved an' slaved 

for the children no' for me. 
She'd a better tHldlcation than any I couM 

But. rbiMiHln* betwe«>n books an' me. why. she 

lovtHl me the most. 

An* wife, she had a hard ilf*'. — an' so have I, 
for that. 



For a farmer isn't likely ever to get money- 
fat ; 

Yet 1 thouglit tliat since I meant to get these 
Dlckins anyway. 

For M'randy's birthday, or, at most, before 
come Christmas Day, 

I'd get 'em for her coffin, an* lay 'em long 
the side. 

An' run the risk their get tin' wet by the Jor- 
dan's rollin* tide. 

An' I wish that I could see her when she 
sees those books In heaven ; 

She'll know her husband sent 'em, an' wants — 
to be — forgiven. 


As soft sunbeams plash 
In a lakelet of white. 

So Dorothy's dimples 
Are dimples of light. 

And as little waves run 

From that plashment away. 

So the curve of her smile 
Widens out through the day ; 

Widens out to the faces 
That see her the while. 

That move to her dimples 
And smile with her smile. 


Learn patience. Watch the quiet-moving 

Slowly beneath hard winter form the spring. 
To-day the earth is locked in icy death, 
To-morrow, and to-morrow. Dreary boughs 
Flaunt their dry leaves in mockery of life. 
The groand Is adamant ; no juices run ; 
The world Ib chained in silent hopelessness. 

But patience ! By a hair's breadth momently 

The whirling globe turns nearer to the sun. 

And patience ! By a hair's breadth momently 

The iron earth relaxes into life. 

Slow drop by drop the sluggish current starts 

Through nature's myriad veins. The glitter- 
ing sky 

Takes on insensibly a milder light. 

The meadow softens. Through the waiting 

Dellcioas thrilla anticipate the spring. 

For He, the Life, the omnipresent Life, 
The Life that beats at every door of death. 
The Life that broods in every sky, and spreads 
In ceaseless widening waves to eveiy shore. 
Has filled the world too full for any noise 
Or bluster of His working, — nought to do. 
In any comer of His universe. 
But live and love and be the God lie is ! 

So shall I live when I am one with Him. 

So shall I work in all serenity. 

So shall I face the cold or any heat. 

The storm or drought, and live my life 

through all. 
So shall 1 know the shallowness of sound. 
The majesty of calm ; and so at last 
Become co-worker of God's patient years. 


The woods were dark and the night was 

And only an owl could see the track ; 
Yet the cheery driver made his way 
Through the great pine woods as if it were 


I asked him, '*How do you manage to see? 
The read and the forest are one to me." 
"To me as well," he replied, "and I 
Can only drive by the path in the sky." 

I looked above, where the treetops tall 
Rose from the road like an ebon wall. 
And lo ! a beautiful starry lane 
Wound as the road wound and made it plain. 

And since, when the path of my life is drear 
And all is blackness and doubt and fear. 
When the horrors of midnight are here be- 
And I see not a step of the way to go, 
Then, ah ! then I can look on high. 
And walk on earth by the path in the sky. 


Twice In the year 

The heavens are near. 
Closing softly upon the eye. 

Tenderly pressed 

As a mother's breast 
On the hungry mouth and the groping cry. 

Once when the slow, 

Hesitant snow 
Spreads a silence on vale and hill. 

And awes the trees 

To their praying knees, 
And draws the curtains and says. "Be still !" 

And once again 

When the walks of men 
Are suddenly roofed with a trembling screen, 

In a day, an hour, 

Of sun and shower, 
A laugh of leaves and a burst of green ! 

And high and far 
The heavens are, 
Twice in the sweep of the swinging year. 



The holy sky 
Up-leaping high 
Above the stain of a doubt or fear. 

Once when the tnow 

Strikes tent to go, 
And the shelving crystals no longer cling, 

And trees are bare 

To the warming air 
That touches and whispers of bud and spring ; 

And once when a hand 

Of sharp command 
Drives the red leaves the branches through. 

And swift in a night 

The eye gains flight 
From the lower green to the upper blue ! 


Seven points hath the Christmas star : 

One is the love that shines afar 

From God to man ; and one is the love 

That leaps from the world to the Lord above ; 

And one is good will on the happy earth ; 

And one is purity, one is peace. 

And two are the Joys that never cease, — 

God's joy, 

Man's joy, — 
Aflame in the star of the wonderful Birth. 

And the light of God's love is a golden light. 
And man's love to man is crimson bright. 
And man's love to Hod is an azure ray, — 
Alas, when It flickers and dies away ! 
And the seven rays through the worshipping 

Like the flash of all jewels, exult and play. — 

(fod's Joy. 

Man's Joy, — 
Yet they shine as one, and the star is white. 


Hmthrr of toil ! what nobler theme 
Tould U«»nior. Danti*. Milton drrnm 
Thnn Junt thin homely commoiiplHce 
That w«-iivcH the substance (if our dayii? 

Aloft the stately beadeil pini*s 
May lift thi>lr proud sorrateil lines 
Far to th«> fao* of hravcn. and m«»<*k 
The llghtninK's flash, the tempest's shook. 

T*nl«Mis, «T(>4>p grul>l>lng In the ground. 
The toiiulily crawling roots Wfre found ; 
Unless those miners In the ilark 
iMiR fo4Nl for (i!iri*. leaf, and l«rk ; 
Unless thoM«> tendrils sll unknown 
Kept a ko4n1 grip on s«»ll and stone — 
Wherr would the poni|>uua branches be 
That silly poets solely accT 

Ours be the grabbing In the dirt. 
The strain that wears, the taaka that hart. 
Oura be the part of pallid roots. 
While othera poae «a purple fraita. 

Last shall be first. In God's great plan* 

O humble working artiaan ! 

Id heaven the happy roots behold 

Treasured in soil of ahining gold ; 

After the stress and the strain of their atrlfe. 

Set in the bank of the River of Life ! 


"Jockey, little horse-Jockey, riding to the race. 
Jaunty is your t>earlng, confident your face« 
Beautiful your goodly steed so powerful and 

fleet — 
But wliat, my little jockey, la the matter 

with hia feet?'* 

"The shoes are loose, kind stranger. Their 

click it is you hear. 
But I myself will fasten . them aeenreiy, 

never fear. 
Since I have broaght my toola along, to 

tighten every shoe ; 
For while the horse is racing, 1*11 have 

nothing else to do !" 

"Jaunty little horse-Jockey, with yoar silly 

You are not more foolish than many a fool> 

ish man — 
Up into the saddle, off for the race of life, 
F:xpecting to get ready in the middle of tiM 



The quiet little Transvaal, 

On peac4>ful proAt bent. 
Was ruleil by wist* Paul Kroger, 

Its farmer president. 
So stoutly had he carried 

The burdens on him laid. 
The grati'ful lioers decided 

To have his statue made. 
Th««lr plans were quite completed,— 

A statue big and tall. 
Ho set that all the city 

Might s(H> the gn>at "Oom PanL" 
But flrst. — as was a proper 

And gracious thing to do,-~ 
They calliMl on Mrs. Kruger, 

To get her notions, too. 

Th(>n spoke that royal woman. 

With simple, kind intent : 
"Be sur«* to put a hat, sirs, 
U|Min thr presl<lent ; 
And hollow out the top. please. 
That rain may flli it up. 



And all tbe birds may find it 

A useful drinking-cup !** 
So spoke dear Mrs. Kruger, 

And gratefully, I think. 
The birds will sing her praises 

Whene'er they take a drink. 
Ah, happy is the nation 

Whose ruler cares for men ; 
And if his wife takes thought for birds, 

Why. it is blest again ! 


'The heart of the world beats aloof from our 
Under a sweet-browed, happy sky 
Saints live tadly and sadly die ; 
Our joy with a sullen heaven strives ; 
The firmament cannon sound peal on peal 
When nothing but foolish deeds is done, 
Yet a shuddering through men's hearts 
may run 
And all the nations in anguish kneel 
Beneath a faultlessly smiling sun.'* 

But the hushed, bare treetops all carol to- 

When the bird in my heart is singing. 
And the dark sky glimmers in cloudy weather 

When up through the parting soul-mists 
My spirit has broken its tether. 
And all things sullen and dumb and drear 
To the listening spirit attuned to hear 

With heaven's still music are ringing. 

Lo, I am the lord of my storm and my sun ! 

Lo, I am the lord of my sky and my rain ! 

My soul is at home in a happy domain 
Vaulted o'er by the smile of the Beautiful One. 

He gave me the sceptre; and shall 1 not 


The brook that played at hiding with the sky 
Mirrors no green leaves now, laid rudely bare 
For light to point at. Through the sad 

white air 
Rings the incredulous birds' home-seeking 

Wildly the outraged squirrel chatters by 
'Mid tbe chipped ruin of his dwelling fair, 
And all the girlish fern and maiden-hair 
Hang heads abashed before the day's bold 

Oh ! my dear shrines amid the mossy rock. 
Owned ye no woodland deities to stay 
The axe, greed-goaded to the ugly shock? 
Had all your oracles no voice to say, 
"Spoilers! The wealths you ruin here but 

The mangled profit that you drag away"? 


Soft little hush songs heard in the night. 

Young birds practising songs in their sleep, 
Old birds dreaming of sunshiny flight. 
Sweep, pe e-p, sweep ! 

Daintiest 'fragments of daylight song 

Drift through my window out of the dark. 
Drift through my window all the night long. 
Hark, che-e-e, hark ! 

Lying I listen and take to my soul 

Fine little lessons of hope and of cheer. 
Darkness and daylight one beautiful whole. 
Hear, swe-e-et, hear! 


Here or There in highest heaven, 
Dead or living. Here or There, 

Evermore shall praise be given 
To our Heroes of tbe Air. 

Through the clouds* portentous portal 
They have turned their daring helms; 

They are pioneers immortal 
Of the ether's golden realms. 

They are masterful explorers 

Of the regions fine and far ; 
They are undismayed adorers 

Of the future's gleaming star. 

Dead, they lead the nation onward ; 

sun in chariots of fire 
Upward, cloudward, ever sunward 

Those heroic hearts aspire. 

As we heed them, as we follow 

Through tbe new and shining deep. 

With the wheelings of the swallow. 
With the eagle's climbing sweep, 

Still we hear their voices call us. 

In their spirit still we dare. 
Heedless if their death befall us, — 

Noble Heroes of the Air ! 


The people's mind in daily black and white ; 
The crude clear picture of tbe people's will, 
Confused, distorted, clumsy to fulfil, 
Yet ever blundering onward to the light : 
What history is here for one to write 
Whose eye can read it ! As the hidden rill 
Creeps through the marshes timorous and still 
But onward ever to the ocean's might, 
So through the muddy tangle of these lines. 
This dally gorge of gossip, of dispute. 
These floating shadows of obscure designs. 
These raucous cries, these aspirations mute. 
Gleam of a growing purpose softly shines : 
And ye who see it, gladden, and salute ! 

T — — 

Tbi- tky H-n- KiBr) of thi' liiwem of tnie. 

It* rBiwneivea and lla draarr righ. 

tta -mpt]> pride and Ita cruel narea.' 

K.'hIimiiiii of wrlnmii' Ili<- HwliiiilDg liirdi 


But th)- towera ot trade kept tbeir alB 

And tli» hoir air i'iiHr<l>^ Ihtai all. 

■N..« nl lam." uM th.> lirmHilnit fky. 

AmuDK tbe rliiuila lb.^T were atlU the aaa 

■■Th.. vl.y ba, rt.,.ii aLH,v,. Iim rarei. 

Only a gloomily dreprr atre«t. 



 Th.- right wld tr1iini|ih," .I.>n« drclarwi. 

A v.TT <liirFr.-ni man M Bro»n : 

■■Ki.r CihI > IIK«1ll«l th.' »' ; 

11.' •>.'■» an (nilmiaalr. 

An.l «.. * .in h.- fflr.-.l. 

111.. I.r.>w in knitted In a froam. 

III. iKMly iH-ni with ran-. 

"Til" «-..rld.- b- n^a. ■la on Ibe brink 

Ii.> ihouL-lil ih-lr falrh wax lax; 

orhldniua. endlnrn wnr." 

II.' II.. 1 lii<i I'livtrfiil nil i>rr c»til, 

n-bairvT mrn aar do or think. 

Anil ■l>unn«l thp la(. 

El.> kn..wa(bai tbl* la ao. 

11- Kuiilil not n-Bil irhal ,»ben ri-ad 

And j-l be bad bla aana cnllat. 

«f lif-r.. .1-.NU .uUllm.- : 

An<l Iber vrre In lb.- lUbl : 

"Jiiit tvav-' th.- mi'H ainnp." hp aalil ; 

And unrr bi> downed a parlllM. 

"Twill all r.iiu.' rlithl hi llm.'." 

And ■prvpd the fellow rlichi. 

II- wiiulJ D..I )..ln III., nmrllal crow.l. 

Beforr bin hoaae fire bannera ware 

TbFir DmIli'iM flam unrurlrd : 

•iliKl n In 111! h-avM." J..n-. ai, 

And .'V-ry dnllar br can MTe 

-And all '» right wltn th- wurlil." 

Uon Into Libert)' Bvnda. 



"Oh, talk ia cheap," says Uncle Ez, 
"la now and alwapa tcaa: 
It isn't what a fellow »ay», 
IV% what a fellow does." 


Her girlish face leaped into loveliness, 
And all its delicate, sweet modellings 
Glowed with the light of immemorial 

The dim felicities that mornings guess. 

Through all her veins the primal riot ran 
Vaguely delicious, as a thrush's trill 
Wanders the forest, or enchantments thrill 

Around the fairy isle of Caliban. 

The world grew softly luminous ; the breeze 
Bore fragrances of unimagined bliss : 
Upon her lips it pressed a laughing kiss, 

Then flew away and told it to the trees. 

And all — and all because that roguish Bill. 

Swinging along to some absorbing game. 

Turned his Apollo head and called her 
Turned and superbly shouted, "Hello, Lil !" 


My sins are like an arrow-flight 
That hurtles o'er the fleld. — 

Like arrows from an ambuscade; 
But God is like a shield. 

My sins are like a wintry frost, 

And slowly, one by one. 
My Joys and powers they seal in death ; 

But God Is like a sun. 

My sins are like a malady 
Increasing through the years; 

But like a good physician. He, 
The healing God, appears. 

My sins are like the ocean waves 
That surge with angry shock. — 

The treacherous, inconstant waves ; 
But God is like a rock. 

My sins are like a parch(^ land 
With thirst and hunger doad ; 

But like the living waters. God, 
And like the living bread. 

My sins are like a wandering 

In deserts drear and cold : 
But God is like a shepherd kind. 

And God is Uke a fold. 

Like all things hurtful, harsh, and foul. 

Are these my ravening sins ; 
But God is like all graciousness 

That helps and heals and wins. 

And yet without the loving Christ 

And His compelling rod. 
My heart would leap to follow sin 

And disavow my God. 


Thou whose healing reaches far 
Where the seedd of evil are. 
Probe the source of my distress. 
Every secret sinfulness. 

Thou whose eye discovers keen 
Both the hidden and the seen. 
Use Thy knife, if so Thou wilt. 
Where I think me free from guilt. 

Thou whose mind is wise to see 
What has been and what will be. 
Though no present ill I know. 
Save me from the coming woe. 

Human sages ply their art. 
Curing fever, chill, and smart ; 
Thou, O Christ, my health shalt be 
Now, and through eternity. 


*Twas many days with Sam and Jim 
Before they taught me how to swim. 
A swimming collar, fat and wide. 
Around my timid neck was tied ; 
I had a life-preserver on. 
And buoyant boards to float upon. 
And ventured out six feet or more 
From safety and the beckoning shore. 
1 paddled in the shallows there 
With quite a bold, determined air. 
And got the motions to a T, 
As Jim and Sam did both agree ; 
But, some way, spite of Sam and Jim. 
I never managed — quite — to — swim. 

One day. worn out with these attempts. 
Discarding my accoutrements, 
I stood there, like the fool I am. 
All goose flesh, watching Jim and Sam ; 
When, suddenly, they rushed ashore. 
And, heeding not my panic roar. 
They caught me up and carried me. 
Indignant, fighting to get free. 
Along a rustic bridge, to where 
The deepest, deadliest waters were. 
Then threw me In with warning grim : 
"You booby ! Now It's sink or swim !'* 



And It was swim. A splash ! A scream ! 
A frantic struggle with the stream ! 
I waxed a demon in my wrath, 
But floundered on my watery path. 
And gasping, faint, too wealc to stand. 
And blubbering, I reached the land. 
Thus — tardy thanks to Sam and Jim, 
I learned at last the way to swim. 

And now, as I surrender me 
To some ecstatic, leaping sea. 
Or cleave the waters dark and cool 
Of heron-haunted forest pool. 
Or through the shining of some lake 
My liquid flashing course I take, 
I say, while wrapped in that delight, 
^'WeU, Jim was right, and Sam was right.'* 

And often. In these later days 
Of hustling twentieth-century ways. 
As from the shore I watch the tide 
Of life and iattor deep and wide, 
Where flerce contentions clash and beat 
Along the current of the street. 
And in the ocean of the town 
I see full many a wreck go down. 
As, bound by timorous despair 
I stand aloof and idle there. 
The thought returns of Sam and Jim 
And how they made a coward swim. 
"Jump in !'* I bid my shrinking soul, 
"Nor heed the waven that angry roll. 
Nor breakers, fierce howe'cr they be; 
A man is lighter than the sea. 
Trust In your lungs and musdeM stout 
And in God's ocean. Out ! Swim out !" 

Then, as I venture to t>e brave 

And hurl my body on the wave. 

And pay no heed to my alarms. 

But use my fe4>t and use my arms, 

I And my t>ody Instantly 

In liquid oneness with that sea. 

And — thanks once more to Sam and Jim— 

I learn at last that I can swim. 


Hald I>r. I>o. "Drink lots of milk ; 

Flat toaHt — thero'N nothing iM'tter; 
And soon you'll fe<'l as flni> aH Milk, 

And sprightly an a setter." 

Raid Dr. Ik>n't. "Avoid all meat. 

And deadly frieiT |H)tatoeN ; 
No coff«H>. mind : and mvrr cat 

Bananas or tomatcN^s." 

And Dr. IK>n*t Iteranie a grocer. 

Ills patients were no f«*w. 
The sirk folks all said: "Don't? Oh, no. sir! 

I go to Dr. Do.*' 


The Jack and the Jolick and the Jamborte, 
They climbed np into the banyan tree. 

They climbed to the top. 

But they had to stop. 
For no more foothold could they see. 
The Jack and the Jolick and the Jamborte 
To climb still farther did all agree. 
So the Jack stood up on the topmost limb. 
And then the Jolick climbed over him. 
Over the two went the Jamttorie, — 
He climbed up quickly the world to see. 
And then the Jack from the topmoat limb. 
With grin and chuckle, climbed after hia. 

To the top climbed he. 

The world to see. 
And there in the air swung all the three. 
The Jolick gleefully followed the Jack, 
And quickly reached the topmost back. 
And then again went the Jamborte 
Up to the top, the world to see. 
On they are going, and on and on ; 
They'll reach the stars before they are done ! 


Have yon heard of the wonderfal flah-of-war. 

The marvellous submarine? 
It's a demon, a fighter, a conqneror. 

Our most malicious machine. 
The man-of-war is a proud affair, 

A creature of fire and steel. 
And he gives himself a terrible air 

As his crashing cannons peal. 
But down in the water still and aly 

Dark shadows craftily slip. 
And — piff ! — the vault of the mocking sky 

Is filled with the shattered shl|>. 
Ah. men-of-war, did you haughtily say— 

The saying bom of the wish — 
That war Is a game for men to playT 

It's rather a game for fish! 


They XwUl a Kreat mtMMlng a king to select. 

And the kangartM) rose in a dignlflcd way. 
And said, "I'm the one you should surely 
For I con out-Ienp every l>east here today.** 
Said tho eagle, "How high can yon climb 
towani the sky?" 
Knld the nightingale, "Favor us, please, 
with a song:** 
Said th(* hawk, "Let us measure our powers 
of eye!" 
Said the lion, "Come, wrestle, and proTs 
you are strong!'* 
But the kangaroo said, "It would sorely bs 

In our choice of a king, to make leaping tbs 
test !" 




A letter once came to a foolish wise man. 
Who sagely proceeded tbe missive to scan. 

He weighed It, he measured It, thought to 

The average slant of the letters it bore. 

A bit of the paper he cautiously took 
To a microscope lens for a sapient loolc. 

Dissolving the ink, by a chemical feat 
He made an analysis finely complete. 

Then he turned to the flap, and persistently 

To find from what country its gum had been 


As thus he was busy with exigent task, 
His brother drew near him and ventured to 

*'You*ve a letter from father ! And what 

does he say? 
I'm eager to hear it ! What's in it. I pray ?" 

Said the foolish wise man : "You are hasty, I 

I 'shall not get to that point for more than 

a year!" 


I dare not ask a place in heaven's book, 

Its covers gold and Jewels for its pages. 
Where angels with their shining eyes may 
Upon the names of heroes, saints, and 
But only the assurance, proudly sweet. 
That in some lowly spot my name is writ- 
Perhaps upon the pavement of the street, 
By angel foot and heavenly chariot smitten. 

I dare not ask a mansion in the skies. 

With springing towers and widening roofs 
Ten thousand ecstasies for mind and eyes, 

A palace and a home superbly blended ; 
But only for a room, a little room, 

In some remotest hiding-place of heaven. 
Where I may meditate my rightful doom, 

And Ood*8 dear grace unearned, so freely 

I dare not ask a place at Thy right hand, 
O Majesty ! O Inflnite in glory ! 

Where John and David, Paul and Peter stand, 
And angels and archangels bow before Thee ; 

But only for a place, the smallest place, 
Upon a road where sometimes Thou art go- 

That I may wait for glimpses of Thy face, — 
This be my prayer, O God, and Thy be- 
stowing ! 


A savage business ! Ruin of the past. 
The wreck of roofs, the ignominious fall 
Of lofty tower and well-knitted wall. 

Strength, use, and beauty to oblivion cast. 

A dangerous business ! Ply the pick too fast. 
Press too impatiently the structure tall. 
And this your ravage will become your pall, 

Destroyed and the destroyer one at last. 

And yet a hopeful business ! In that place 
Waiting and clean another wall will rise, 

And other windows flash a morning grace. 
And other towers dream into the skies ; 

And all the years will know a larger Joy 

Because a sturdy Vandal dared destroy. 


My dear Mb. Carpenteb : 

Please call at eight. 
All prepared with your tools to mend my 

front gate. 
The latch has been broken. And pray bring 

with you 
Not one latch, but though it seem strange, 

sir, bring two. 
For I have a notion. It's awkward, you 

Half the time, when you pass through a gate- 
way, to throw 
Your arm over tbe pickets, and fumble around 
For the latch, out of sight. And now, sir, 

I've found 
A remedy for this: one latch on each aide! 
There's a notion worth having ! In fact, I've 

For a patent upon it. Remember, — at eight. 
With your tools, and ttco latches. 


J. Addle Pate. 


"I should like to be rich,'* said young Tom, 

with a sigh ; 
'There are so many things I am aching to 
buy ! 
Oh, would I had money, and would it were 

To good steady payers, at fifteen per cent !" 

Now it chanced a wise man. Just in passing, 

had heard 
Tom's sighs and repining, each covetoua 

word ; 



So he took the young fellow aHtridr of bis 

And taught him to groic junt as rich <u 

could be. 

And this way 'twas done. Kvery once in a 

Tom would lend to some neighbor — a sun- 
shiny smile; 

And every time, for the smile he had lent, 

Tom got two in return. That's one hun- 
dred per cent! 

Bright greetings, warm kisses, kind deeds 
on the sly, 

All bring him an interest equally high ; 

And tH>fore many days, I am ttold to declare, 

You will find that<young Tom is a true mil- 


Young Willie was bragging — I happened to 

hear — 
That he never had known the ghost of a fear. 
I hope he was honest and true in his boast. 
For the Ghost of a Fear is a terrible ghost! 

I know him, I've seen him — his staring green 

Ills octopus arms of remarkable size. 
Ills trap of a mouth, like the Jaws of a 

And his voice, which Is Just like Tiiuvlan 


But turn up the light. buyK, the light of 

your face. 
And whistle and laugh In the gloomiest place; 
For there's nothing will conquer the Ghost 

of a Fear 
But a glimmer of love and a chuckle of cheer. 


There's a little dumpy siTgeniit that calls me 
to the fray. 

Arousing m( from slumber at Ave o'doi'k 
each day. 

.\t five o'clock precisely he hammers at my 

Antl breaks In fortjr pieces my most delight- 
ful ><nore. 

This llttb* dumpy sergeant, ho prompt and so 

ll«* calli* lilt* ont*e with vigor, but he never 

rslirt iiH* twice. 
If I rbiMiM- not to ht-ar hlin. and i»hut my 

eye* ngnin. 
Why. 1 may wakr myself u|» — at nine o'clm'k, 

or trn. 

There's another little sergeant, who hammers 

on my heart ; 
Who pommels me so briskly, he makes me 

sting and smart. 
While I lie down in darkness and shut my 

eyes to sin. 
This little sergeant. Conscience, awakes me 

with his din. 

But ah, this little sergeant, so prompt and 

so precise, 
lie also seldom calls me but once or twice or 

"Wake up !" be cries, "arouse you. or sleep 

forevermore !*' 
Ah, heed the little sergeant while he Is at 

the door! 


I am the Newspaper, vivid and wonderful. 
Solemnly ponderous, gorgeously blunderful. 
Wildly omniscient and sagely Socratic, 
Daring, defiant, progressive, erratic. 
High philosophical, l>old metaphysical. 
Jauntily, flippantly, saucily qulzslcal. 
Coolly unprejudiced, bitterly partisan. 
Flaying the millionaire, plotting the artisan. 
Comic, dramatic, domestic, artistic. 
Airily ethical, brutally fistic. 
Slave of the counting-room, foe of hypocrisy^ 
Knave of the nabob and 1k>ss of democracy. 
Nastily sensual, saintly sermonic. 
Partly in earnest and wholly sardonic. 
Not quite a buzzanl. assuredly not a lamb. 
I am the Newspaper : pray tell me irMaf I am. 

A Nonsense Hong — with a Point. 

I have got me a tablet and |>«'n. 

I have got me a bottle of Ink. 
And now since I've got to write something at 

I've got to be silent and think. 

I've got a fair measure of brains. 

I got n go<Ml training In school. 
Hut since I hav«> g(»t to discoursing like this. 

I have got to \h* much of a fool. 

I have got an Idea In my head. 

That wiMM'way I've got to extract ; 
But what have I got when the sentence Is 

Have 1 got a deceit or a fact? 

I haven't got all I should get. 

And rv»' got to r«*mrnilM»r a lot. 
If I've got what I got. O what shall I fvt 

For forgetting the thing that I gotT 


The Bhadowa lie (oft od the graia. 

From ibadoff to Bbadow I pau 

Under the Bleeping tree*. 
Token of reel and delight, — 
Tbe ihadow encircled b; light. 

Buck are the beaTena on blgb. 

Blnck li the earth below. 
Red lUhtnlnKs flub Chrou^ tbe ak; 

Dread burrlcaaeB blow. 
Ah.  terrible alght.— 
The shadow apart from the light 1 


shad ITS b d 

wa s wh gh 

maj of n g de 

m bn y b gb ad 

B BOR y a 

w hea 

d a h T,e 

mod Q w d 

Dg ba e Btr 

h  hu ed 

hn th wood 

eema unu ab 7 

u and fa 

a la he 

no hn 




* «! 

W *K«* 









Dear Nature's love color, aa maD*8 is red, — 
Fluahiog the bosom of her swelling plains, 
Mirrored in all her limpid flowing veins. 
And on the sweet brows of her hills out- 
spread, — 
Your charm to all fair color charms Is wed : 
Royal as purple all your oak-green reigns; 
Like girlish pink and white your birch-green 

And with the sky's true blue your lawns are 

How does one color body many souls! 
Young cedar-green laughs happy in the sun ; 
The green of elms a sage discourse outroUs ; 
Of hemlock green are plots and poisons spun ; 
A color drama with one actor this. 
Weaving an endless metamorphosis. 


I saw them once — the holy, quiet spaces. 
The hills high lifted in the shining air, 

MeadowM with morning peace upon their 
And placid sweeps of woodland freshly fair. 

Oh, It is Joy. Id these tumultuous places. 
To know It all Is waiting, calmly, there! 

And onc« — a day when leaden clouds were 
riven — 
I glimpsed the land of spirit clear and pure. 
Where mortal sins for evermore are shriven. 
And glad, white souls forever dwell secure. 
Oh. ic is Joy. In this mad turmoil driven. 
To know that |>eace is waiting, near and 


When temptations throng and prest 
Through a lonely wilderness. 
In my dout>t and deadly fear. 
Jesus. Saviour. I>e Thou near : 
Thou hsHt all temptation known. 
All temptations overthrown. 

The Firat Temptation : 

When the sky Is brass o'erhead. 
And I fear for dally bread. 
With the fullness of Thy peace 
Bid my fainting folly cease ; 
Though the wilderness is bare. 
Thou wilt spread a table there. 

Thr St^eond Temptation: 

When ambitions bid me stray 
From the strait and narrow way. 
Thou, the I^ord of all the earth. 

Teach me what Is better worth. 
Show the gain of loTliig lo«. 
And the glory of the crosa. 

Th€ Third Temptation: 

When the very work I do 
Brings a subtle danger too. 
And I fain would speed alone 
In a pathway of my own. 
Then. O self-denying Son, 
Not my will, but Thine, be done ! 


**Come to the love feast, Pussie. We want 

you right away." 
**rm busy catching birds, sir. 1*11 come aome 

other day.*' 
"We're going to have a love feast. Sir Tond« 

and wait for you." 
"Fm busy catching flies, now; and won't to- 
morrow doT* 
"Come to the love feast, Robin. We need 

your merry song." 
"I'm busy catching insects, but I'll he there 

ere long." 
"Grave Mistress Owl. a love feast waits your 

wisdom so sublime." 
"I'm killing mice at present, air. I'll come 

another time." 
So they postponed the love feast till they 

could And a day 
When no one of the guests conld find an 

animal to slay ! 


O lassies unburdened with carea. 

And b(»ys with your blessings nnbooght. 
There's a t>eautlful garment that each of yon 
wears, — 

The wonderful garment of thought. 

It clothes you from head to your feet. 
It wraps you without and within. 

It tintt IS discerned by the people yon 
And serves to repel them or win. 

Each thought that Is true to the right 
Embroiders the garment with gold« 

Or adds to Its graces a jewel of light 
That kings would rejoice to behokt. 

Eaeh thought that is foul with the wrong 

Tears one of the jewels away. 
Or rends the fair garment its lieauties nloDc, 

Or stains it forever and aye. 

Ah. many a richly drensed Isd 

Is ragged and foul in God's sight. 

And many a fellow most wretchedly clad 
Wears really the robe of delight. 



So before you select a new shawl, 
ADd before a new bonnet is bought, 

Take heed to the garb that envelops it all. 
The beautiful garment of thought. 


All hail! my brave, bright world of green 

and gold, 
My morning, smiling from the kiss of night ! 
Yonr other lover greets you. Left and right 
The air 's a-twitter in the sunshine bold. 
The air is praying in the shadowy wold. 
Sole lord am I of all this realm of sight. 
These swinging meadow sweeps, this proud 

Of ranking hills, these clouds Just out of fold. 
Stoutly the sturdy road beneath my feet 
Rings me a morning welcome. Rise, my soul. 
The benediction of the sky to meet. 
Sound, color, fragrance, freshness — mine the 

whole ; 
Mine to receive, and haply mine to give : 
A kingly day, and kingly must I live. 


I used to shave in awful fear 
Of losing chin or lip or ear ; 
For well I knew a movement rash 
Meant some unconscionable gash. 
In steamboats then, and on the cars 
I tried to shave between the jars ; 
But oh, in seas or country rough 
What rasor, pray, is sharp enough 
To know Just where the calms begin. 
And where the bumps are coming in? 
I hastened, after each disaster. 
To use the styptic and the plaster. 
But seemed, with many a ragged scar, 
A hero torn in horrid war. 
Yet served the most unholy ends 
Of banter even to my friends. 

But now my safety razor swings 

Swift as a swallow's cleaving wings, 

Smooth as the motion of a dream. 

Or fishes gliding in a stream. 

My mirror fills a useless place ; 

I do not need to see my face. 

I shave me in the waning light 

Or in the blackness of the night. 

In safety now securely brave, 

I even shut my eyes and shave ; 

And where the bumps the bumpiest are, 

I laugh at every Jolt and Jar. 

Now heaven grant me grace to bring 
The same good sense to everything ! 
To guard the cutting edge of care, 

Nor leave its mordant sharpness bare ; 
To curb the raspings of my words, 
Nor flourish them like naked swords ; 
To shield the barbs of anxious doubt 
With casings made of courage stout ; 
And save ray soul from worry's wound. 
With high sereneness fenced around. 
So shall I wield my tools, nor harm 
The turning band, the swinging arm ; 
So shall I do my work in peace. 
So shall my fret and turmoil cease. 
And all my time's full-freighted flow 
Smooth as a safety razor go ! 


The worlds are at war : 

Welter of globe-dust whirling through infinite 

Nebulous maelstroms flaming afar. 
Meteors beating the sun in the face. 
Wrathful star on star 
A chaos of angry light and bursting heat 
Where primitive passionate forces meet 
Barren of mercy, barren of grace, — 
A universe all at war. 

The war presses near : 

Storms lash out at the maddened rage of the 

Bellowing hill and quivering tree 
Spit at the lightning's forkM spear, 
Serpents coil a darting death. 
Sullen swamps belch poisonous breath, 
And every forest and sunny blossoming lea 
Shrills with the cry of fear. 

War, even war in the last and the least : 

Chemic war of the elements deadly still. 

Plague germs working their hidden will, 

Microscopic dragon and beast 

Tearing at life in a bloody feast. 

Minutely potent to kill ; 

Yes, and the stolid clay and impassive stone 

Rocked with the battle-groan. 

Torn with a war of atoms, tumultuous, dread. 

Heaped with atomic dead. 

War ! a deeper, more desperate war : 
War on the boundless plains of thought. 
War with the mightiest weapons fought. 
Timeless, ruthless, endless to bum and scar; 
And all that a lover's care has heedfuUy 

And oil that patience has painfully brought. 
And all that hope has ardently sought, 
Rent with silent, Invisible shell. 
Sinks to the maw of hell. 
Charge of mysterious armies out of the night. 
Clash of wrong and right. 
Thrust of ideas, formless, dim. 
Devils and seraphim. 



Raging forward and backward, itubbom to 

War's one infinite field. 

Where Rhal! I find thee. Peace? 
Where In these tumults that never ceaae. 
Where in the eddying swirl of ether, where? 
Where in my heart of sin and care? 
Where in the little and the large. 
Where from my day's diminutive lease 
To the faint and farthest marge? 

I have sought thee long. 

Now with a cry and now with a song. 

And now with an ache and a silence that 

could not find. 
Long I have sought thee through the desert 

of mind. 
Long through the wilderness woven of thorny 

Sought thee on shining wings, 
llunte<t with fancies fleet. 
Through the woods, the cloister, the street. 
With viiiion eager and strong. 
Or stumbling and groping the way of the 


Whore, O Peace, may 1 find thee, where? 

For I know that thou art fair, 

1 know there is home with thee, and orbfd 

And pleasures that cannot cloy. 
But I see thee nut, th<* glint of thy diadem. 
The waft of thy garment's hem. 
Nor catch a whispering token faint and fleet. 
Thy fragrances dimly sweet. 

And yet thou art, O Peace ! and knowing 

thou art. 
Waiting, somewhere, waiting serene and still, 
I face all desperate HI 
With the dauntless laughter and song of a 

conquering heart. 
As I seek I shall find. In the seeking fearle«s 

and fast 
I shall find thee at last. 
Peace In the tmttle, and Peace of the battle 

On some candid mom 
When the rlamor beaten to stillness will die 

And Death shall fall on his own red sword. 
And Shame shall In* of himst>lf abhorred. 
And the world shall leap from Its night to 

the glor> of dsy. 

Heeklng. I have thee. IN>ace ! In the gallant 

In the Ntniggle that mucks at rest. 
In defiance of fear. 
Disdain of the craven goods that men hold 

And passionate love of the best. 

When I And thee, Peace, when I sink at thy 

Panting, and proud, and satisfied, 

I shall not remain there long. 

Another battle, O Peace, thou must ever pro- 

That 1 may be glad and strong. 


The Browns are coming back to town ; 

The Greens are moving away. 
*TwiIl make a striking difference 

In our neighborhood, they say ; 
For the Greens are Jolly, cheery folk. 

The Browns are rather sad, 
A dull and sombre family. 

While the Greens are always glad. 
I'm very fond of all the Greens, 

From little (^reens to big; 
I like to see them dancing by 

As merry as a grig. 
And yet I think I'm going to like 

The Browns's sol»er style ; 
After the riot of the (>reens 

'Twill rest us for a while. 
And I've a notion that some week 

Of windy, frosty nights. 
The Browns in turn will go away. 

And in will move the Whites! 


[Written In ih© World War.] 

As Thou hast kept our nation. I»rd, 
From evil fates and sins abhorrtHi, 
Preserve It now from all the woe 
Of Inwnrd shame and outward foe; 
From base defeat and baser fear 
Keep Thou the nation's annals clear. 

Our fathers met embattled wrong; 

I^t us as well l>e l>old and strong. 

Our fathers died to keep us free; 

So may we die for lllterty. 

Our fathers look upon uh now. 

And Thuu. the heavenly Father, Thou! 

No fairer land In any clime 

Has called Its men to deed sublime; 

Nu nobler history has cast 

Its high endowments from the past ; 

May we. our fathers' <Jod. may we 

Be true to them and true to Thee! 

In holy faith and humble trust 

We lift the Imnner of the Just. 

In confidence of brotherhood 

We seek the universal good. 

For Thee. O i;od. we dare to fight ; 

Lead Thou the armies of the rlglit ! 




The world of trees Is twinned with a world 

of snow. 
Like black Othello and his stainless mate ; 
In parallels as strange as hope and fate 
The sweet white follows where the branches 

Its feathered heavy arches bending low, 
The forest holds itself in crystal state ; 
All softly sclntillant the hushed aisles wait 
As for the march of angels to and fro. 
The lowliest bush o'ertops the highest art. 
And loveliness Is flung on log and stone 
And wreathed in all recesses of the wood. 
Ah, here's a vision of the pure in heart. 
Ho into truth and living beauty grown 
That all their least concerns are fair and good. 


Where narrow little valleys snugly He 

In quietness, 
Where green New England mountains touch 
the sky 

With soft caress. 
There, chaflng in a narrow round of toll. 

Rock-bard of face, 
A gloomy farmer longs for prairie soil 

And prairie space. 

Where all the world is empty of a tree 

To flock the sky. 
Where far and far as weary sight may sec 

The levels lie. 
There, languishing beneath the wheeling sun, — 

So vast, so still. — 
An exiled woman longs for one — Just one — 

New England hill. 

Two prayers unanswered ! Where exchange 
of ills 

Were rose for rue ; 
And that is why I think that heaven has hills. 

And prairies too ! 


Bright squares of grasses, differently green 
With different nurture, this for sturdy 
And this for softest texture, silvery sheen, 
This for resisting drought, and this for 

Stretches of corn, from various chosen seed. 
With varying soils, by varying liquids fed ; 

Confines of noisy fowl diverse in breed. 
Orchards of apples, yellow, green, and red. 

Queries of nature, patiently minute. 

Long questionings of earth and air and 

Long watcbings of the blade, the flower, the 
Slow witness of the hill, the slope, the 

What earnestness of labor lavished here. 
That peas may have a little fuller pod. 

Or corn bear one more kernel to the ear. 
Or grasses form a little firmer sod ! 

And as I walk along these fruited aisles. 
These thoughtful paths and wisely pur- 
. posed ways, 

I think of my life wanderings, miles on miles 
Of aimless loitering through barren days. 

O God of harvests ! lead me to a place, 
However small, that I may bravely till, 

And make it wear a little fairer face. 

And one least corner with new verdure fill ! 


There's a beauty of the forest and a beauty 
of the hill ; 
There's a splendor of the marshes, and an- 
other of the sea ; 
In the meadow, on the mountain, there's a 
grace, a glory still. 
For the artist Lord of artists guideth me. 

And I will not chide the marshes in my long- 
ing for the wood. 
Nor the hill because the rivulet is gone. 
For the daily dole of beauty is the day's 
supremest good. 
And the path is reaching on, is reaching on. 


"Will you have something in books to-day?" 
So the young woman prattled away, 
Using her salesman lingo free. 
Just as If books were pounds of tea. 

That is the way the business is run. 
Books by the thousand, books by the ton. 
Books by the measure of mason or cook. 
And the bigger the pile, the bigger the book. 

"Something in books?" Yes, Miss Flippancy, 
yes ; 
Something your big store does not possess. 
Give me a book that was bom of the heart. 
Free from the stains of the bank and the 

Give me a book that Is known of the trees, 
Comrade of clouds and at home with the 

Give me a book I shall have as a friend. 
Daytime and nighttime, till living shall end. 



"Ye-e-s/* says Mira Flippancy, doubtfully 

"Here's the best seller that ever we've sold. 

Every one's reading It ; going lilce fun. 

We'll sell a thousand before the day's done.'* 

"Something in books," and the business Is 

fine : 
Let the stores carry "a popular line." 
But come, dear old books, well tested and 

Here's for an hour in a comer with you. 

You were never "best sellers," when put to 

the test. 
But you are best readers, which surely Is 

best ; 
And, though all the clerks should unite to 

The "something In books" is the something 

inside ! 


Dear friend, by favoring fortune richly led, 

Your life a long experience of peace. 

Dread not the day when these delights will 
And you will rest among the silent dead. 
By this glad confidence be comforted, 

That life's excelling Joy Is life's release. 

That fortune grows as earthly goods de- 
And from the bowl of death true life Is fed. 
By this one loss all gains are stoutly made. 

By this adventure certainty is found : 
Did ever merchant make a better trade? 

Did ever voyager tlnd richer ground? 
At death's dark door nor doubting nor dis- 

Huperbly win all profits at a bound ! 

A wei(;hty matter. 

I dreamt the whole thing out as I was sleep- 
ing ; 

May I (uiitide in you? 
I spend my days In walling and In weeping 

For ft»ar my dream come true. 
I thought that with no kindly word of warn- 

No hint of coming trouble. 
Home cause mysterlouH one awful morning 

Mode gravitation double. 
The branches snapped from all the trees 
around me, 

A fierce, terrific sound. 
I fain would run away. Alas! I found me 

Kant flx<Hl u|>on the ground. 
The birds fell down like feathered stones from 
hen \ en ; 

The sky was all bereft. 

Ten houses were before ; behind me, seven ; 

And not a house was left. 
It rained, and every little drop down mahlns 

Cut like a leaden ball. 
The air grew denser; pressing, stransllns, 

I tottered to my fall. 
And then awoke from oat my fearful aleeplng. 

And now, what shall we do? 
I spend my days in walling and in weeping. 

Might not my dream come true? 


I like a lad of muscles big. 

And lungs of shouting sise. 
Of active feet and figure trig 

And brUhtly beaming eyes ; 
A lad who well can run a race. 

And push a paddle well. 
Or breast the waves with fishy grace. 

Or raise the schoolboy yell. 

But while he's strong for work and fun* 

I want him stronger still, — 
Yes, strong to help some weaker one. 

And strong of righteons will. 
And strong to pray, and strong to praise. 

And strong to answer No ; 
And if he's strong in all these ways. 

He'll conquer every foe. 


[Written In the World War.] 

Where's the man who will not hear 
When his country's call Is clear? 
Where's the man who skulks awaj 
From the needful, deadly fray? 
God of heroes, blot his name 
With the deepest black of shame! 

Hail the man whose heart and hand. 
Loyal to his native land. 
Join her legions in the fight 
F*or eternal truth and right ! 
God of heroes, write his name 
In the light of golden fame ! 

Where's the man who gives no heed 
To his brothers' direful need. 
When in bleeding lands afar 
I>eath and doom and anguish are? 
God of brothers, let him be 
Lonely through eternity ! 

Hall the man whose ready heart 
Gladly takes a brother's part. 
Though the cruel, fearful fray 
Rages half the earth away ! 
Ctod of brothers, let him be 
Honored throogh eternity ! 




Blind ! Dear sun, I beamed that I was blind I 
Dear green of grass and shining blue of sky, 
That ye were one, and nothing! That my eye 
Was dungeoned in with massy black, behind, 
Before ; that all my reaching could not find 
With outstretched, sickened nerves one cord 

To the bright, loving world, so far, so nigh. 
My strange world of blank horror I could 

And still the terror of it stays with me, 
And in that dread the spirit bids me read 
How closely I am knit to what I see, 
And how the senses tyrannise my need. 
O light, true light of heaven ! Can it be 
That my clear-seeing eyes are blind indeed? 


I watch the glory that brings in the day 
From college towers that look across the glen, 
The eastern heaven spread out to my ken : 
The trees below, bright-tipped with morning's 

The sky above, with livid colors gay. 
Now filled with fiaming clouds, with banks of 

Heaped to the zenith, now in dull attire — 
One glowing band below the heaven's gray — 
And now a quiet sea with tint of green. 
And flakes of rosy and of sapphire lights. 
And now a band of purple, dark and deep. 
In lighter skies, and edged with silver sheen ; 
Now all one flush of color : wondrous sights 
By angels brought us from the land of sleep. 


Pleasant is the mellow tinkle 

Of the golden eagle grand. 
Pleasant is the kindly jingle 

Of good silver in the hand ; 
But the little bit of copper 

On its humble errand bent 
Is the king of all our coins : 

Hats off to the Lincoln cent ! 

I am glad they put him on it. 

On the lowly copper bit. 
Not upon the lordly eagle 

For a banker's fingers fit ; 
For he loved the common people. 

And he wished no other fate 
Than that common folk should love him. 

They, the basis of the state. 

But I wish they'd put him on it 
Of full length, the Lincoln size, 

Tall and gaunt as stands a pine-tree, 
Tall and stately for men's eyes. 

He was awkward, so tbpy tell me ; 

Be it so, and who would care 
When they saw him like a column 

Firm and patient standing there? 

So he walks among the people 

Much as when he lived on earth, 
In the ways of homely traffic. 

And of simple, gentle worth. 
Still he walks among the people 

On our common errands bent. 
Copper king of all our coins ; 

Hats off to the Lincoln cent ! 


The oracular owl 
Is a very wise fowl. 
He sits on a limb 
By night and by day. 
And an eager assembly waits on him 
To listen to what the wise bird may say. 
I heard him discourse in the following way : 
"The sun soon will set in the west." 
'* Twill be fair if the sky is not cloudy." 
"If a hundred are good only one can be 

"No gentleman 's ever a rowdy." 
"Ah I ah !" cry the birds. "What a mar- 
vellous fowl ! 
Oh, who could excel this oracular owl?" 


Our fathers walked around the hill, 
And we pursue their Journey still. 

Ah, toilfuUy we do it ! 
Stenography, direct and fleet. 
Has used its brain to save its feet. 

And made a tunnel through it. 

With inky lines complexly wrought 
We spin a spider-web for thought. 

And lazily invite it ; 
Stenography, of fiercer mold. 
Leaps after thought, with spirit bold. 

As far as it can sight it. 

In clumsy coaches dull and slow 
The longhand writers plodding go, — 

Or break down, woe betide it ! 
Stenography, a railroad train. 
Speeds on the track as Driver Brain 

Desires to urge and guide it. 

For thought is like a maiden gay 
Whom Shorthand takes in dashing way. 

And gladly she receives him ; 
But Longhand is the drawling kind. 
Who tries to speak his sluggish mind. 

And while he tries, she — cleaves him. 



Now let the wealber do Iti wont, 
Wllb Iroat and aleet bdJ blowing, 

Bage like a beldam wild aad cunt, 
Aud ba\e III mi of gnowlng. 

Now let Ibe Ire In wvage viae 
Qrlp meadow, brook, and branctaei. 

I turn my cottar to the blatt 

And greet Ibe atorm wltb laughter : 

Tour daj, old Wintrr '. uae It fait. 
For Spring la coming alter. 



The world may wear a frigid air. 
But ab ! its heart is burning ; 

Soon, soon will May dance down this way 
The year is at the turning. 

There's not a sabre-charge of cold 

But brings the blossoms nearer ; 
By every frost-flower wc shall hold 

The violets the dearer. 
So rage and blow the drifting snow 

And have your fill of sorrow : 
The turning years bring smiles for tears ; 

We'll greet the spring to-morrow ! 


Two men in Austria whispered the dread word, 
Then two in France or Germany, and then — 
A world in woe ! Like silly floclcs of sheep 
Driv'n to the shambles, bleating as they go 
With quavered songs of country and of king, 
Millions of men — at bidding of those four ! 
Statesmen, they plunge the state in misery. 
Lawmakers, thus they lead in lawlessness. 
Chosen to guide in happy, prosperous ways. 
They pipe to ruin, they, the fatal four. 
And all the foolish world troops after them ! 

If these, the men so blindly drawn to death. 
These artisans that will not labor more. 
These farmers that will plough no field again. 
These poets that will sing no song again. 
These builders that will rear no house again. 
These husbands that will never see their wives, 
These sons, these brothers, all these lovers 

That march so blithely to the battle-field 
And to a blood-soaked grave — If they could 

The reason for it all, could think it out. 
Debate it in the villages, decide 
As men should reason, not as blundering 

beasts ; 
If they could fight for some far-shining truth, 
Some pulsing vision of the rights of men, 
Some golden vision of the Joys of men, 
Some flaming vision of the love of men. 
For liberty, and peace, and brotherhood — 
If thus they fought — why, war would not be 


Oh, mad contagion of a people's pride ! 
Oh, plunging passion of a nation's wrath ! 
Oh, mock of reason and democracy ! 
Some day, from out this welter of the brute. 
This crudity of anger and of fear. 
This weak submission to the little souls — 
Some day will rise the Brotherhood of Man. 
First, it will grow in one imperial breast ; 
Then others, swiftly others, catch the light ; 
Then all the hearts of men will burst aflame. 
What barriers will then be burned away ! 
What bars of rivers, deserts, mountain, sea ! 

What sunderings of language and of creed, 
Of customs and of history ! What fence 
Of stupid prejudice — all burned away ! 

Till then — ah, ye that live the larger life. 
That look above the walls, clasp brother- 
bands ! 
Cry boldly down the narrowness of fools. 
Hurl reason at the fallacies of hate. 
Meet mock heroics with a hero's rage ! 
The world is one ! Refuse the lesser goals ! 
The world is one ! Disdain the trivial calls ! 
The world is one ! Fling far the great appeal ! 
Confront the petty patriots with the fire 
Of worthy country-love, that loves mankind. 
Face horrid war with war's own crushing 

And burl it to the chaos of the past ! 

Then shall we build the Order of the World. 
Then, In a courteous honor each of each. 
Shall frame the lawful fabric of the globe. 
Then shall we love our countries fervently. 
The more for brother-love of other hinds. 
Then shall we spend for peace as now for 

Then shall we strive for peace as now for war. 
With passion of heroic energy. 
Then shall we find in peace, as now In war, 
Urging and scope for all of mankind's best. 
Then shall we see the shame of any deed 
That brings a tear to one poor little child. 
Or rends with anguish one poor woman's heart. 


Eyeservice let me give 

The while I live ; 
In shadow or in light, 

By day or night. 
With all my heart and skill 

Eyeservice still ! 

Yes, for the eyes I'll serve — 
Nor faint nor swerve — 

Are not the eyes of man 
That lightly scan. 

But God's, that pierce and see 
The whole of me ! 

Beneath the farthest skies 

Where morning files. 
In heaven or in hell 

If I should dwell. 
In dark or daylight fair. 

The Eyes are there ! 

No trembling fugitive. 

Boldly I live. 
If. as in that pure sight, 

I live aright. 
Yielding with hand and will 

Eyeservice still I 




The President Who Does It All, 

A very egotistic elf. 
Is blind to what the rest can do. 

Is mucllaged upon himself. 
Over the whole committee work 

He manages somehow to sprawl. 
And runs the whole society — 

The President Who Does It AH. 

The President Who Does It All 

Is very certain, in his pride. 
The whole society would stop 

If he. perchance, were laid aside. 
He meddles with the least details. 

He dictates all thinij^ great and small ; 
He's It, he'd have you understand — 

The President Who Does It All. 

The President Who Does it All 

Will get mad and resign some day* 
And And, to his intense surprise. 

The other members glad and gay. 
He'll see the brisk society 

Spring up as if released from thrall, 
And go rejoicing on, without 

The President Who Does It All. 


Sun on New Year's morning 
LAughlDg at the suow ; 

Trees hung thick with Jewels, 
Icicles aglow. 

All the earth in ermine. 

All the air In blue. 
All the bells a-Jingle : 
"Uo ! the year Is new." 

Out to greet the new world 
All so white and pure. 

See our household darliug. 
Dainty and demure. 

"Happy New Year, snowbirds! 
Happy New Year, sun ! 
Happy New Year, oak-tree ! 
Happy, every one !*' 

From the blue sky dropping 
Tu the white earth down. 

llert* thp New Year's blnls com«, 
Dr«*siM*d In white and brown. 

"Happy N«»w Year, darling!" 
Thus tho gay birds sing. 

"New Year's pn>M*nts. darling. 
Merrily we bring." 

"My gift. • said the flrnt bird. 
"l# your mother's love." 

"My gift." said the second, 
"Is the san above.** 

"Mine is your sweet home, dcftr.* 

"Mine is Are and food." 
"Mine is Jesus' praises 

When His child U good.** 

"My gift is nice clothing.** 

"Mine is play and fun.** 

"Mine is rest and slumber 

When the day Is done.** 

Eight birds softly singing 
In the New Year's glow, 

As our happy darling 

Trudges through the snoir. 

New Year's birds, gift-ladeo. 
Singing hale and true, — 

Listen softly, children ! 
They will sing to yon ! 


Said lasy Sammy, "Don't you know. 
When grown-up men a-cmlling go 
They wait till folks are up and dr c td. 
House swept and dosted, and the rest? 
Now I should think it quite Ul-brcd, 
Soon as the sun Is out of bed 
To call upon his world, before 
The sun has time to do a chore. 
Or set his house to rights at all 
In preparation for a call. 
Before I'd be m> rude." Sam said, 
"I'd tarry half the day in bed !'* 

[Written In the World War.) 

Fair with the beauty of heaven on earth. 
Noble with honor's Immutable worth, — 
Other lands also are noble and fair. 
Slaughter and ruin are ravaging there : 
Country, my ctmntry, give ear to the call. 
Guarding the t>eauty and honor of all. 

Rich with the store of a bountiful aoll, 
Ijiden with fruit of Invincible toil. — 
Wealth of the world is In peril to day. 
Riches of ages are lost in the fray : 
Country, my country, obeying the call. 
Iji%ish your wealth in the service of all. 

Strong with a young and exhllarant power, 
Itrave In the dark of a des|M*rate hour, — 
Other lands also heroic and strong 
Pour out their blood in the battle with wroa^ 
Country, my country, where myriads fall. 
Venture your life for the lives of tbeni aU. 



Free with a liberty blessedly bold 
Born of the struggles of centuries old, — 
Justice and liberty, law and the right, 
All are at stake in the resolute fight : 
Country, my country, let nothing appall. 
Dare to be free for the freedom of all. 


The brightest thing a house can do. 
When morning fills the skies. 

Is Just to catch the sun's first rays, 
And flash the brilliant prize. 

No eighty-candle lights within 
Can match the dazzling sight, 

And every window-pane becomes 
A fusillade of light ! 

Thus, thus it Is when households kneel 
In humble morning prayer. 

The very Sun of Righteousness 
Is caught and captured there ; 

And all the day, in all its ways, 

However dull they be, 
The happy windows of that home 

Are scintillant to see ! 


Within and over and around 
This dancing swirl of human sound 
Are tones that we can never hear 
With our dull range of mortal ear. 

Amid, encircling, and above 

The sights we loathe, the scenes we love, 

Sunbeams of dearest beauty die 

In darkness on our sluggish eye. 

Into that sound was rapt the Word 
The common people gladly heard ; 
Into that light, from mortal view 
The Light of all the world withdrew. 

Some day will crash, on land and sea. 
The parting clouds of mystery ; 
Some day a mighty light be lit. 
Disclosure of the Infinite. 

Then, flashing on new ears and eyes, 
The sights and sounds of paradise 
Will come, exalting in their train 
The Han of Nazareth again. 

For that great day we fashion here 
The heart and hand, the eye and ear. 
Within these clay-bound bodies grow 
The bodies heaven or hell shall know. 

Hay I my lasting casement find 
Not halt or crippled, deaf or blind. 

But meet for all that heaven is, 
A perfect cup for perfect bliss I 

Within these hands, outstretched to aid. 
Be hands of power and beauty made ; 
Within these feet that Christ's ways go. 
May feet swift-winged for heaven grow; 

Be ears, with loving listening warmed. 
To angel-hearing ears transformed. 
While looks of human sympathy 
Form eyes for all eternity. 


[Hon. John D. Long, Secretary of the Navy 
during the Spanish-American War. at the 
Boston banquet given to the foreign dele- 
gates to the international conference for the 
celebration of a century of peace among Eng- 
lish-speaking nations, aroused much enthusi- 
asm by the following proposal: "The minister 
of the village meeting-house which I attend 
referred last Sunday to the monumental statue 
of Jesus, 1.400 feet above the sea. on the 
mountain ridge which marks the boundary 
between Chile and Argentina, erected to com- 
memorate the peace between those two South 
American republics. One hand holds the 
cross, the other extends to them the blessing 
of Him who came to bring peace on earth and 
good will to men. Would that such a statue 
had been chosen to stand guard over our Pan- 
ama Canal! Fortifications there are a chal- 
lenge to war and an inducement to an armed 
enemy's destruction of the canal. Such a 
statue would t>e a challenge to peace and an 
ensurance of the preservation of the canal."] 

Down in the heart of the world, 

Panama, portal unpriced, 
There let the war-fiags be furled ! 

Raise there the image of Christ ! 

There, where the nations will meet. 

Salute, nor tarry nor stay. 
By the pelagian street. 

Set we the Light and the Way. 

There, where the navies will go 
Till navy and army shall cease, 

There, for the friend and the foe. 
Place we the Prince of our Peace. 

Brotherly welcoming hands, 

Ix)verly welcoming eyes, 
Christ of the unified lands. 

Christ of the opening skies ! 

Write on the pedestal forth, 
Write with a gold-flowing pen, 
"Peace on the blossoming earth. 
Peace and good will unto men !" 

This be our guns and our fort. 

This has forever sufficed. 
This a resistless resort. 

The presence and power of Christ ! 



Stronger thao granite wall. 
Stronger than bursting ahell. 

Words of brotherhood fall, 
Hands of friendship compel. 

ChrUtians! Exult in Ills throne. 
Fount of all glory and grace. 

Warriors ! He Is your own. 
Chief of the conquerors' race. 

Patriots! Born to command. 
King of the nations is He, 

Lord of the brotherly land. 
Lord of the sisterly sea. 

South on the Andean height, 

riorttHl for the passage of trade, 

See the iniporial sight. 

See what two nations have made. 

Two, long sundered in twain. 

Bound fraternally now ; 
Forever the bond shall remain, 

Christ of the Andes. Thou ! 

What for the two Is done. 

Happily do for all. 
Till in the course of the sun 

Never the war-notes call ! 

Then an Atlantis fair 

Hach of our shores will be. 

And ocean everywhere 
One vast Paclflc sea ! 

Yes. in the heart of the world, 
runama. |><>rtal unpriced. 

There, the world-banner unfurled. 
Set we the Image of Christ ! 

Pracf Sunday, tSiS. 


Slnic unto the Lord a new song. — Isa. 42: 10. 
Anil th^y sunic a new song. — Kev. 5: 9. 

How weary must Jehovah be 
Of our unchanging minstrelsy, 
The dull. r«*penteil monotone 
Thut ftilt«*iM upward to the Throne! 

How niUHt Jehovah, though the spheres 
Make henvfuly muMlc for HIm ears. 
Amid their noulleM* rhythm long 
To hear a new, a human, song ! 

Our fllniy fnxhlons flit and fly 
Like drifting clouds across the sky; 
Dress, mnnnerw. language, customs, range 
Through endless, fascinating change. 

But still in routine, heartless ways. 
The <vlver of all life we praise. 
And while His varying seasons roll 
We offer Ulm a stoUd sool. 

Bestir thee, grateful human heart. 
And learn thanksgiving's happy art ! 
Cease the unmeaning, careless song 
Thy slothful lips have used so long ! 

For each new gift of heaven, strive 
Some novel praises to contrive. 
Some pean of the life or tongue 
As prompt, as personal, as young! 

With no stale words of yesterday 
Thy formal obligations pay. 
But let thy hallelujahs rise 
New-fledged to greet the morning skies ! 

Be all thy life, in word and deed, 
A vital hymn, a present creed. 
Until, amid the angel throng. 
You sing for aye the new New Song! 


There are three little creatures that And 
their way 

Into a Christmas stocking. 
And they spoil the whole of Christmas Day 

In a manner very shocking. 
Those pesky creatures have no wings. 

Nor body, nor soul, indeed ; 
And these are the names of the dreadful 
things. — 

Self, and Thankless, and Greed. 
They often crawl, as well I know. 

In the Christmas stocking to spite you. 
And if you leave them in heel or toe. 

Ah, how they will sting and bite yon ! 
Choose a hole-y stocking, if you would expel 

These things without tKKty or soul : 
Then ram In your flst, and shake it well. 

And drive them out through the hole! 


You do not need a bed of down 
To give you sleep at night. 

A counten>ane of pink and brown 
And pillow soft and white. 

You do not need a pretty room 
All dressed in dainty blue. 

Where soundest slumber-health may 
With pleasant dreams, to you. 

But All the day with labor, Ned. 

And work with all your might. 
For that will All the hardest bed 

With softest down, at night. 

And If you want a counterpane 

With many colors gay. 
Not only work with might and baIa, 

Bat — add a bit of play ! 

Wbat dops Ibe cup of ocpiin hold? 
Glorj- of purple and (rllni of uold : 
TMnlerPBt grefas (inil bcavpnly liliif, 

I tlif minliirlit thmnih nnd 
Wuj-Kgrd rlpiiIvB (Wl idlj- r.>iim. 
TumbllDg breakers n-ltb KallRut foam : 
Sands and pebblM tbat chaw and xlldv; 
MystlF nirrrnta Ihal aqftlr glide; 
Mighty B|)cll of the »get old, 
Tbla (loca the cap of ocean bold. 

n'hni duoB t^e cup of ocean iH'ar 
To the lips of land folk everj-wlien- ? 
DangiT'H ominous, ghostly hreatb. 
RattiTcil torniH of au awfnl d^ath ; 
IlonllDg tempeslR and bitter Hloel. 
4'reiih nf the nea steede' terrible feet ; 
Ships B-qnlrer wllb fearful ebock. 
Anguish heaped on a Baiage rock ; 




It was a goose who sadly cried, 

"Alas : Alas ! Tbe farm is wide. 

And large tbe barnyard company. 

Bat no one ever looks at me ; 

There really seems to be no use. 

Or pralta. or glory, for a goose. 

They pet the dog whose bark and bite 

Scare tramps by day and thieves by night ; 

But when I bravely stand on guard. 

And drive intruders from the yard. 

They laugh at me. The kitten plays, 

And all admire her cunning ways ; 

But when I venture in the room. 

To play, in turn, some stick or broom 

Soon drives me out. Those birds they call 

Canaries cannot sing at all 

In my sweet fashion ; yet their lay 

Is praised — from mine folks turn away. 

They prise the horse who pulls the cart ; 

But when I try to do my part, 

And mount the shafts to help him draw. 

They whip me off. I^st week I saw 

Two stupid horses pull a plow, 

I watched the work, I learned just bow ; 

Then, with my bill. I did the same 

In flower-beds, and got only blame. 

It really seems of little use 

To try to help— when one 's a goose!*' 


Love is the golden law. 

Sunnily dear ; 
Justice, the sliver law. 

Cold, calm, and clear ; 
Anger, the iron law. 

Harshly severe. 

Anger's an iron lance. 

Mighty to slay : 
Justice, a silver scale, 

Faultloss alway ; 
I«ove Is a golden ring. 

Joining f(»r aye ! 


I'p com«>« tho Kun with merry light 
And puts the dark to rout : 

It makes a very |>lt>aiuint sight 
For mo to write alwut. 

Thr river flowing to the sea 

Slips chf^erily along : 
It's (|Uit*> thf pro|M*r thing for me 

To celebrate in song. 

The mountains rise on either hand 
Majestical to view. 

And I shall flnd them very grand 
To write a sonnet to. 

The ocean stretches far and wide. 

It fllls a mighty cup ; 
Some day I surely shall decide 

To write the ocean up. 

The city, with its rapid stream 
Of mortals gay or wan. 

Will make a very jolly theme 
To write an ode upon. 

So many pretty things I see 
Within the horixon's hem. 

And all are waiting anxiously 
For me to write of them. 


Take a cup of thoughtfulness. 

Take a cup of love. 
Take the herbs that cheer and bless. 

Drawn from stores above. 

Take a pinch or two of pains. 

And an ounce of wit. 
And of secrecy two grains. 

Just to flavor it. 

Cook it at the flre of seat. 

Seeking not your own : 
You will have the merriest 

Christmas ever known. 


**A baby must cry to develop its lungs." 
So waggle the foolish. Inconsequent tongues. 
Forgetful of babies whose crying Is alight. 
Yet, faith ! they can prove that their hing» 
are all right. 

"A boy must see life." men say with a grin. 
So headlong and heedleaa they tumble him 

I^t him flounder and gasp In the muck of 

the town ; 
It will strengthen him. sure, if he doesn't 

go down. 

"The poor we have with us, and must have 
for aye." 

Thus the misquotc*ni make the New Testa- 
ment say. 

So they dole out their charity, mocking- tb« 

That might end forever the woes of the poor. 

Ah, pn>phetN of sorrow, complacent witk 



The new age is teaching a worthier song ! 
The Bong of a fntnre that betters the past. 
The song of a blessedness certain to last. 

For the babes need not cry, and the boys 

need not sin. 
And the poor from their poverty riches may 

And when we are stronger and when we are 

We will cliange this old world into paradise ! 


Who killed the Plan? 
"I," said the Critic, 
"I knew how to hit it, 
I killed the Plan." 

Who killed the Plan ? 
**I,*' the Bore said. 
"I talked it dead, 
I kUled the Plan.*' 

Who klUed the Plan? 
*'!," said the Sloth. 
"I lagged and was loth. 
And I killed the Plan." 

Who killed the Plan ? 
**I," said Ambition. 
"With my selfish vision 
I kiUed the PUn.*' 

Who killed the Plan? 
**I." said the Crank, 
"With my nonsense rank 
1 killed the Plan." 

A Song of the Panama Canal. 

Says New York to Yokohama, 

To Calcutta and Bombay, 
To Peking, Manila, Bangkok, 

Sydney, Shanghai, Mandalay : 
*'I am building you a channel 

Safe and easy — I'm the boss ! 
It's a short and simple journey. 

Come and see me : cut acro8$ r* 

This the call of San Francisco 

To Berlin and Liverpool, 
To Vienna, Cairo, I^ndon, 

Naples, Paris, and Stamboul: 
"I am making you a roadway, 

It's a modern, mighty foss ; 
And the distance now is — nothing. 

Come and see mt: cut acroaa !" 

Uncle Sam says to the nations. 

Nations big and nations small : 
"I am keeping open house now. 

And invite you to a call. 
For the world is growing narrow. 

And an ocean but a toss. 
When our ships can pierce an isthmus. 

Come and see me: cut acroaa!" 

And the nations sing in chorus. 

Sing a song of happy peace : 
"Now we are so close together. 

It is time that wars should cease. 
Fighting is a wretched business; 

Ix>ss, and loss, and only loss. 
Let us live as friends and neighbors, — 

Visit often, — cut acroaa!" 


If every man would do the things the "other 
man" should do. 

Attack the hoodlum, catch the thief, and 
watch the rascal crew. 

We'd have a perfect city, and a perfect coun- 
try, too, 

A sober land, an honest land, where men are 
good and true; 

There'd be no more misgovernment nor graft 
nor mobs to rue. 

If every man would do the things the "other 
man" should do. 

If every man would think himself to be the 

"other man," 
Become his own reformer on a self-respecting 

And calmly, boldly, set himself to do the 

thing he can. 
Nor wait to find some other one to push into 

the van. 
The world's entire iniquity we'd put beneath 

the ban, 
If every man would think himself to be the 

"other man." 


Free — free — who are the free? 
Those, O God, who are true to Thee ; 
True to the goal of a noble plan, 
True to the need of their fellow man. 
True to the call of the inner soul. 
True to the good of the mighty whole. 
True, O God. to their brothers and Thee, 
These — these — these are the free. 

Where — where — where are the free. 
Where on land or the tossing sea? 



There are they where the need is dire. 
There are they in the battlo-flre. 
There arc they by the bed of pain. 
There they are dragging the prison chain. 
Where the toil and the triumph be. 
There — there — there are the free. 

How — how — how will the free 
Win the goal of their liberty? 
Rver daring impossible things, 
Ever trtrating the spirit's wings. 
Stoutly meeting the deadliest foe, 
Stoutly dealing the final blow, 
Gladly dying for liberty, 
Free — free — these are the free. 


Two things are yours that no man's wealth 
can buy : 

The air. and time ; 
And, having these, all fate you may defy. 

All summits climb. 

While you can draw the fresh and vital 

And own the day. 
No enemy, not Hate, nor Fear, nor I>eath, 

May bring dismay. 

Breathe deeply ! I'm* the minutes as they fly ! 

Trust (;fMl in all ! 
Thus will you live the life that cannot die. 

Nor ever fall. 

• HINT A Bl'SY MAN. ' 

"If you've a Job that you want done," 

So runs a saying grim. 
"Just find the busiest man you can. 

And give the taslc to him." 

Of all th«> wU'k(Ml schemes devitu'd 

ity lazlnt^Hs and fat. 
The wIckiMiest, the crui'lest. 

The shamcfulest, is that ! 

The man wh«» says that wicked thing 

Somt* day will wuroly go 
To most appropriate punishment 

Admin IstennJ Im'Iow. 

I'pon his groaning form bestowed, 
A weight of Iron shall rest. 

And ever with Increasing l<Mids 
His body shall In* pressed. 

"Now here's another little weight,** 
The flonds will say with vim ; 

"And here's an over-loaded man ; 
So lay the weifht on bim." 


I^rd of workers, endless wise. 

It would be a wondrous prise 

If our work so firmly st(K>d 

Thou couldst praise and call it good. 

Ix>rd of workers, whose design 
Finer grows and yet more fine. 
All our work with purpose fill. 
Help us make it better still. 

Ix>rd of workers, pointing far 
To ideal's perfect star. 
Leave us no ignoble rest. 
Lift our better up to best. 

Lord of workers. Joined with Thee 
In endeavor's ecstasy. 
I^t Thy words that cheer and bless 
Be our goal and our success. 


"A good trust" holds the goods In trust. 

Not only for Itself; 
The common good it will adjust 
Fairly to private pelf. 

"A good trust" may be trusted, then, — 
And such trusts have been known, — 
To guard the good of other men 
As e<iua] with its own. 

And since the rules of bank and mart 

Are like a vulture's claw. 
A good trust must t)e tmm of heart ; 

It is not made by law. 


While we're conserving coal and trees. 
And waterfalls and things like these, 
I trust that CongreuM will obiier%'e 
Some other things we might conserve : 

Conserve the bliss of those that wed ; 
Conserve the hair upon my head ; 
(Ninserve the spinster's fading face; 
Conserve the kitten's sprightly grace. 

Conserve our stomachs, now the prey 
Of sonio new diet fad each day ; 
<'onserve our lassies and our lads 
From these new educmtion fads. 

Conserve the faith In Santa Clans; 
<*onserve the reverence for laws; 
Conserve the freshness of oor yotflK 
Its faith In man, lu Iots of Untlu 



CoDserre the money spent on style, 
The optimist's confiding smile, 
The paragrapher's stock of jokes. 
The patience of a lot of folks ! 

And while this conservation fit 
Is on, some statesmen might admit 
The suitability of Shelves, 
And prudently conserve — themselves. 



*Do you like my new hat?" says your wife, 

Appearing in awful disguise, 
A fabric whose towering strife 

Shrieks up to the horrified skies. 

Do you like my new hat?'* and she smiles, 
Her dimples with diflidence blent, 

And all the dear, timorous wiles 
That seek a delighted assent. 

And what is a fellow of wit. 

And honest, moreover, to do. 
But say,* as he shudders from it, 
"At any rate, dear, I like you"f 

Memorial Day, 1911. 

What marches when the veterans march 
On the thirtieth day of May, 

That limping, glorious line of men 
Over a flower-strewn way? 

Why, Gettysburg is marching there. 

And frightful Malvern Hill, 
The shame and terror of Bull Run, 

The loss of Chancellorsville. 

Fort Sumter marches. Donelson, 
And Sherman's "to the sea," 

The Monitor, the Hartford, 
Duels of Grant and Lee. 

There goes the ghost of Andersonville, 

And Libby's spectre grim ; 
There marches Lookout Mountain, 

There strides the Battle Hymn. 

There passes the Proclamation, 

End of a curse abhorred ; 
And there goes Appomattox, 

The sheathing of the sword. 

All this goes by when the veterans march 
On the thirtieth day of May ; 

And what can those that see it do 
But lift the hat, and pray? 


We thread the serial's magic maze 

Of mingled Joy and woe. 
Each turn and trap and tangled phase 

Assiduously wo know ; 
And through it all we little care 

Though gold is lost or found. 
Though hearts are torn and swords are bare 

And gory is the ground. 
The saints may live, the villain die. 

The prince may sink or swim ; 
But "D>oes It turn out well?" we cry, 
"And did she marry him?" 

Nor are we changed when we peruse 

Life's long, fantastic tale : 
We little reck what heroes choose. 

That knaves succeed or fail ; 
Come health or sickness, power or pain. 

Let kingdoms rise or fall. 
The proud may rule, the greedy gain. 

We little heed it all. 
For love we live, for love we die. 

Whatever fates may be : 
"Ah, will it turn out well?" we cry, 
''And icUl the many met" 


(The averaire gift to foreign missions of the 
Protestant Christians of the world — at the 
time when this poem was written. It is a 
little larger now, but still disgracefully small.) 

When our ever-living Saviour passed away 

from earthly eyes. 
Sounded forth this great commandment 

from the eager, opening skies : 
"Go ye, go ye, teach all nations, boldly teach 

them and baptize." 

So they wont, those men anointed with a 
power from on high ; 

So they went, to sneers and hunger, to the 
mob's vindictive cry ; 

Went to suffer racking tortures and trium- 
phantly to die. 

All their life was but one purpose, that the 

life of Christ should be 
Spread abroad among earth's millions as 

the waters fill the sea. 
So the heroes died, and, dying, left their 

task for you and me. 

Children of the saints and martyrs, with all 
peace and plenty blest. 

What obedience are we giving to the Sav- 
iour's last behest? 

What desire, what self-denial, thought, and 
prayer, and eager seat? 



In the stead of what the martjn bore 
through many a conflict drear. 

In the atead of homeless wanderings, bitter 
flghtlngs, cruel fear, — 

Aku tbe shame ! — we modem Christians glTe 
— jugt fort If cents a year! 

Forty cents a year to open all the eyes of 

all the blind ! 
Forty cents a year to gather all the lost 

whom Christ would find ! 
Forty cents a year to carry hope and joy to 

all mankind ! 

Worthy followers of the prophets, we who 

hold our gold so dear ! 
True descendants of the martyrs, Christ 

held far and coin held near ! 
Bold co-workers with the Almighty, — with 

our forty cents a year ! 

See amid the darkened nations what the 

signs of promise are. 
Fires of love and truth enkindled, burning 

feebly, sundered far; 
Here a gleam and there a glimmer of that 

holy Christmas star. 

See tbe few. our saints, our heroes, battling 

bravily, band to hand. 
Where the myriad-headed horrori of the pit 

possens the land, ^ 

StrlTlng. one against a million, to obey our 

Lord's Command ! 

Mighty Is tbe host Infernal, richly stored 
its ranging tents, 

Strong its age-encrusted armor and Its 
fortreHnes Immense, 

And to miH't that regnant evil we are send- 
ing — forty cents ! 

ChrlstianN, have you heard tbe story, how 

tbe basest man of men 
Flung his foul. accursM silver in abhor- 

rent'f* back again? 
"Thirty plecen" was the purchase of tht 

world's Hfdoemer — then. 

Now— It's forty o*nts. in copper, for the 

S.tvlour bus grown cheap. 
Now — to sell our L^rd and Master we need 

only stay anleep. 
Now — the cursj^l JudSH money is tbe money 

that we keep. 

But iH'bold ! I see the dawning of a large 
and generous day ; 

See tbe coming of a legion ; read its ban- 
ners : "Pray, and Pay" ; 

And I see tbp palm of triumph springing up 
alting Its way. 

These are they of open vision, open parses, 

open heart. 
Free from mammon's heavy bondage and the 

serfdom of the mart, 
Where the woe is, where the sin is, come to 

bear a hero's part. 

They have beaten out their coin Into weap- 
ons for the fight ; 

Glows the gold and gleams the silver in this 
legion of the light : 

Selflshness and sloth behind them, onward 
now for God and right ! 

Lift your banners, loyal legion ; swell yoar 

ranks from every clime ! 
All tbe powers and thrones in heaven 

strengthen your resolves sublime ! 
Build the kingdom of your Captain on these 

latest shores of time! 


Mother called, and I called, and Father 
called, and Kate : 
"Johnny! Johnny!" *«Get up, Johnny!** 
"John, get up ! It's Ute !" 
Not a ripple, all our shouting, on tbe cur- 
rent of his dreams. 
Others, though, were lighter sleepers. Some^ 
thing else was roused. It seems. 

First a rustle, then a whisper, then a queer 

and muflled cry 
From the nook where Johnny's jacket 

chanced in tumbled state to lie : 
"Fie upon this lasy Johnny! Brother 

Clothes, observe the sun ! 
Two full hours ago, believe me, was thia 

glorious day begun !** 

Piped the cap from off the washatand, **Oli, 

the sky is blue and red ! 
"What a Joy to look up at It from tbe top of 

Johnny's head I" 
<iroaned the shoes beneath the bnrean, "Ab, 

tbe grass Is cool and sweet ! 
What a frolic with tbe clover were we once 

on Johnny's feet !" 
Socks and shirt and tie and tronsera In ln« 

dignant chorus cried. 
"It's a sbame to make us He here when tbe 

world 's so fine outside !" 

"Friends, " the socks cried, "let ns ponlab 
this great sleepy, lasy lout. 
We, at least, when he does want ua, will be 

found tumt*d Inside oot !" 
Instantly the sbirt aasented, mattering witb 
sarcaNtle cough. 
"I've a button. Master Johnny, which I ftnr 
Is coming off!" 



And the sboestrtnicfl from the bureau added 
tbenuelves to the plot : 
"When Sir Johnny goes to tie us he will find 
an ugly knot." 

Said the cap, *'I*1] run and bide me." The 
■uapenders. old and thin, 

Threatened breaking, and the necktie inno- 
cently lost its pin. 

Thus they schemed and thus they plotted. 

till at length persistent Kate 
Woke up lazy Master Johnny at precisely 

half -past eight — 
And the school at nine ! Young Johnny, 

half-shut eyes and sleepy face, 
Falls to dressing in a panic, at a most 

alarming pace. 
But the shirt sticks to his elbows as he 

tries to draw it on. 
And, in all his lifetime, never were the 

socks so hard to don. 
The suspenders break. A button impolitely 

takes Its leave. 
Johnny's left arm gets acquainted with the 

right-arm Jacket sleeve. 
The shoestrings knot and tangle, and un- 
seasonably snap. 
And '*Oh, mother. Where's my Reader?** and 

**0h, mother, where's my cap?" 
Theresa a hurry and a worry and a grumble 

and a fret. 
And a very scanty breakfast is the best that 

he can get. 

"I do wonder," thought young Johnny, stum- 
bling, tardy, to his place 
In the midst of tittering schoolmates, with 
a very sheepish face. 
"What's the reason all goen wrong when a 
chap has overslept?" 
But he never understood It, for the clothes 
their secret kept. 


•'Where does the clerk of the weather store 
The days that are sunny and fair?" 

**In your heart is a room with a close-shut 
And all of those days arc there." 

"Where does the clerk of the weather keep 
The days that are dreary and blue?" 

**In a second room In your heart they sleep. 
And you have the keys of the two." 

*'And why are my days ho often, I pray. 
Filled full of clouds and of gloom?" 

"Because you go at the break of day 
And open the wrong henrt-room." 



(This poem is an imitation of Paul Keater's 
"I Want to Go Home." Too tired to orig- 

I want to let go. 
To drop the whole thing, 
The worries, the frets. 
The sorrows, the sins, 
Just to let myself down 
On the bed or the ground — 
Anywhere, so it's down — 
And let myself go. 

And the folks? I don't care. 
And my business? The same. 
Hell and heaven? Too tired. 

I want to forget. 
And I don't want to say 
What I want to forget. 
And I don't want to think. 
Just to let down my nerves, 
Just to smooth out my brain. 
Just to sleep. And that's all. 

Please leave me alone 

With your pillows and things; 

'Tisn't that that I want. 

Nor a doctor, nor folks. 

I Just want to let go. 

Oh. I want to let go. 


Falls a benediction from the loving skies? 
I>aughs the merry sunshine to thy happy eyes? 
Floats a peace from starlight, mountain, 

cloud, and tree? 
Thou art serving nature, since nature serveth 


Comes n strength, a beauty, from the wise of 

Do thoy guide thy footsteps who have lived 

l)of ore ? 
Out of books upspringeth power of mastery? 
Thou art Kerving wisdom, since wisdom «M»rv- 

eth thee. 

Are thy friends and neighbors an abiding 

cheer ? 
Does affection's glory clothe thy golden year? 
Prnlsers. helpers, comrades, everywhere dost 

Thou art serving friendship, since friendship 

»»»rveth thee. 

ant and Impulnlve I bins. 
IK »■■ >D<) niDn7 ticbl ; 
ipliiK frnm lili ■lun' hdcht. 
irpiajr Idio plundctlDa. 

• haiiiilly our tanrlpg c 
wtDO of nvr*! tdHi* I 
I 1I.IW. .lo«; wcoftro F 
bruiBl erniDdi te ibt k 

T(i A i.Arir nMOKiNi:. 

Th» ulinwii i>f famni Vp«uvJiii> »» fair 
Wllh ir<>lil>-n Ixvutf In (ho injM.-n air. 

ntiat hiirrld aii^i or a 
Whal tiimlOB. Idark. b 
Hucb. ladr. I*  plctun 

It !■ tbl«, 
ol Idliu. 
itpr <>r Ufa™ 




What a shame to call a man a puppy ! 
What a shame to take a stupid, vacuous, 
Empty>headed, idiotic ninny, 
Egotistic, insolent, and idle. 
Over-dressed and awkward and disgusting. 
Vain, extravagant, and false, and sneaking. 
And entitle such a man a puppy ! 

Rather choose, if you can ever find him, 
Some one brisk, and bright, and energetic, 
Always ready, gay, enthusiastic. 
Friendly, loving, honest as the sunshine, 
Self-ignoring, simple, unaffected. 
Bubbling with a thousand merry fancies, — 
Better far call such a man a puppy ! 


[Read at the "Colony Day," Safiramore 
Beach, Maas. The woodland hollow referred 
to is the natural amphitheatre In which the 
festival was held. Priscilla's girlhood home 
at Barnstable Is mythical, to say the least; 
but John and Priscilla may have walked from 
Plymouth to Sagamore !] 

Down through the dewy woods from Plym- 
outh, the town of the Pilgrims, 

Sturdily came John Alden, and close at his 
side Priscilla. 

Still were they fair, for time had rested 
gently upon them. 

Still were they young at heart, the more 
for the rearing of children. 

Brave were their eyes and true, taught cour- 
age in many a trial. 

Down by the Ilowland farm John Alden 
came with Priscilla, 

Over the toilsome ridge they climbed with 
resolute footsteps. 

On by the winding pathway the Indians fol- 
lowed for ages. 

Glimpsing the blue of the bay and startling 
the partridge before them. 

Joyful the face of Priscilla, and gladsome 
the long, hard Journey, 

For at the end was home, the Barnstable 
home of her girlhood. 

All of the MuUins kin, and the scenes so 
fondly remembered ; 

Yes, and the very room where Alden had 
pleaded for Standish, 

Pleaded with words for his chief but pleaded 
with eyes for another. 

Till at the last she had ventured, "Why 
don't you speak for yourself. John?** 

Still was a smile on her lips, the smile of 
merriest daring. 

Brightly she looked at John Alden who 
trudged so stoutly beside her. 

"Men are a stupid lot" — thus to herself said 

"But like the trunks of the trees, the forests 
were empty without them.'* 

Down by the ponds they came, lA>ng Pond 

and Bloody and Herring.. 
Pausing to feed on the berries, or watch a 

deer in a hollow. 
Or see two neighboring trees that had grown 

securely together, 
Rubbed and bruised by the storms till branch 

to branch was cemented. 
"Thus by the storms of life, Priscilla,*' said 

Alden the thoughtful. 
"We have been bound together, made one in 

our lives and our spirits." 
So as the summer sun sank late in the 

westering heaven 
And silence fell on the woodland with only 

a whippoorwill singing. 
Lighted the two on the brink of this fairy- 
like bow^l in the forest, 
Saw this basin of beauty, filled full of pine- 
trees and birches. 
Hung with garlands of grapevines, cushioned 

with pine-leaves and mosses. 
"Here will we rest, Priscilla," said Alden, 

"for long is the Journey. 
Here will we sleep till the morrow, secure 

in this sheltering hollow." 

So with a murmur of prayer the Pilgrim 
husband and matron 

Laid them quietly down on a couch a mon- 
arch might envy. 

Soft with the weary miles, the stars for 
their bedroom tapers. 

Through the short summer night the wan- 
dering winds from the ocean 

Whispered a song of peace, and scattered 
fragrance around them. 

Over the hill came the murmur of wavos as 
they broke and receded. 

Eagerly wooing the shore, and ever repulsed 
in their wooing. 

Through the short summer night the heav- 
ens watchfully bending 

Tanopied in the hollow and made it a place 
of safety, 

Shelteretl the sleeping Pilgrims from all the 
foes of the darkness, 

(iuarded their slumber until the bay showed 
hints of the daybreak. 

Then as the pearling of dawn gleame<l ten- 
derly in through the treetops. 

And the tentative twitters of birds grew 
bold in th<>ir morning chorus. 

Brightly Priscilla arose and smoothed her 
clustering tresses ; 



But Alden sat on the bank and gaz«d In a 
stupor around him. 

Gazed like one In a trance, with eyes unsee- 
ing and vacant. 

"What Is the matter. John Alden?** Prlsdlla 

challenged him gayly. 
**Are you In Plymouth still? Did you leave 

your senst^s behind you?" 
Slowly, as one In a dream, John Alden an- 
swered I'riscllla. 
"Verily, wife, the night has been a manrel 

of strangeness. 
Spirits are In this hollow, I know not of 

good or of evil. 
Wife, I have seen such things since I laid 

my head on this blanket. 
Mind and heart are confounded. I know not 

If I am Mtlll living." 
Archly Priscilla pinched him. **What iay 

you to that. John Alden? 
You do not feel like a ghost, but like a 

muscular mortal." 
Never a smile from Alden, but still with 

aspect unseeing. 
Quite as a sleeper still, the Pilgrim spoke 

In the dawnllght. 
"Wife, if It be a dream or strangest of truth, 

I know not. 
Much have I seen this night that pasaea 

human believing. 
Marvels that never were and wonders that 

never will be. 
Much do 1 fear that a witch has cast her 

Influence on me." 
**Ueaven forefend !" cried Priscilla. but Al- 
den continued, unheeding : 

**I was upon a road. It was black. It was 

broad. It was shining. 
Down out of Plymouth It stretched along 

,the way we have travelle*!. 
Hard It seemed to my feet, yet soft where 

the Hun lay on It. 
There as I walked. l»ehold ! with howl and 

scream of a demon. 
Splitting the shuddering air with whir of a 

thousand windmills. 
Rushed on that long black path an Inde- 

scrlbsbh* monster. 
Half it sc'etiHNi a machine, and half a hor- 

ribl«> drap»n. 
Hollow It neemtnl. a shell, and In It were 

haiilt'iM murtaU, 
Men and women and children, captured, the 

pH'y of the moUMter. 
On it rushed, and Its legH were wheels, and 

It Khone like a l>eetle. 
Glittered In armor of steel, and It screamed 

like a demon. 
Then, as the t>eetle monster was whining 

and flashing past me. 

Sudden the air was cleft with a bi|rHt lik** 

the blast of a musket. 
Bang ! like the mighty blast of the musket 

of Captain Miles Standish. 
Bang ! and the monster stopi>ed, most right- 
eously shot In the vitals. 
Then were Its captives freed, and sm-arme*! 

exulting around It, 
Struck It revengeful blows, and tore a limb 

from Its body. 
Round, and much like a wheel, with a coll 

all helpless and flabby. 
Yet as I watched, confused by a myriad 

meaningless motions. 
Lo ! the demon was whole ! the monster 

snorted in anger. 
Trembled In quivering life, drew back its 

captives within It. 
Shrieked with a fiendish yell, and flew on 

northward to Plymouth. 
Others hastened, pursuing, long lines of 

glittering dragons. 
All with men In their bodies, and others flew 

In their faces. 
Screamed In defiance, and veered, and madly 

rushed to the southward. 
Ah ! 'twas a fearful sight, and still I trem- 
ble within me." 

**Calm yourself, John." said PrIscllU : "re- 
member our journeying hither. 

Peaceful and quiet, and blest with the gen- 
tle balm of the forest. 

Here Is no hard, black stretch horrific with 
man-eating monsters. 

No, nor ever will be. but beauty serene and 

"That was not all. Priscilla ; yea. that was 

but the t»eglnning. 
Speedily next I saw a narrow path rimmed 

with Iron, 
And on It a row of houses came rushing. 

crazlly rocking. 
IIous4>s long. low. and narrow, and only the 

first had a chimney. 
Houses full of great windows, and all of 

thr windows held fact*a. 
Men and women and children, and all of the 

faces were frowning. 
Place all the houses of Plymouth arow In a 

frantic prwesston. 
Hurtle them through the air with a torrent 

of smoke from the chimney. 
Rumbling, and clanging, and scre«mlng a 

warwhoop worse than the Indians* — 
That was the sound that I beard aod the 

sight that I saw In my terror. 
Then as I watched them they atoppad. aad 

some of the pitiful people 
Left them weary and hot, while olk«f« ••- 

tered the houi 



Tben with a jerk and a groan the strange 

processional village 
Rumbled and clattered away and swiftly 

was lost in the distance.'* 

"Have you a fever, John ?** PrisciUa anxiously 

asked him. 
"Rank unreason is this, to rave of houses in 

Alden made never an answer, but hurried on 

with his story. 
Eyes still staring ahead as seeing invisible 

"Hard by the moving houses, PrisciUa, I 

saw a great river 
Flooding down to the ocean, as if our neigh- 
bors of Sandwich 
Haply had finished at length the big canal 

they are digging. 
Over it leaped a bridge, and while I was 

gazing it parted. 
Halves of it slowly rising, and all of itself 

it Ufted, 
Living and moving and breathing, a new 

and terrible creature 
SUnding stiff in the air. But little I pon- 
dered the marvel. 
For rounding a bend of the river another 

monster rushed at me. 
Silent and vast and dread like the sweep of 

an awful destruction. 
Boat-like, it was not a boat, for It had no 

masts and no canvas. 
Yes, and a hundred boats would scarcely 

equal the creature. 
Stately it swam along with fins that were 

under the water. 
Flat was its back, and on it were thronging 

bevies of people. 
More than the people of Plymouth, and 

Sandwich and Barnstable added. 
Boldly the creature bore them, and steadily 

swimming onward 
Carried them out of sight, to plunge with 

them into the ocean. 
Ah ! *twa8 a horrible scene, so many doomed 

to destruction. 
Hurried resistless away by a mighty and 

merciless monster !** 
••Was it a whale?" cried PrisciUa. "Far 

larger than whales," answered Alden. 

"Surely,** the dreamer continued, "I had a 

surfeit of wonders. 
Yet they were only beginning, for far in the 

air above me 
Came a dull thudding and tremble, and 

looking I saw to the southward. 
Rapidly drawing nigh, a bird with majestic 

Olimmering bright In the blue and soaring 

with never a wing-beat. 

Steadily, swiftly on It came, unswerving, 

Large as a thousand eagles and making an 

angry rattle. 
Seeking its prey ; and lo ! as it swooped in 

a swing from the heavens, 
I saw that it had a man, two men, and 

looking for others. 
Fearful, I ran and hid, but those around me 

were bolder, 
Qazed at the bird unabashed, and said it 

was going to Boston. 
Never a pitying thought had they for the 

people of Boston, 
Soon to be snatched away by that bird*8 

irresistible talons.** 
"Did no one try to shoot it?** PriscUla asked 

him, and shuddered. 
"No one. They waved and shouted and 

sought to frighten the creature. 
Drive it away from themselves and let it 

prey upon Boston.** 
"Heartless wretches !'* PrisciUa cried angrily, 

"heartless and selfish !'* 

"Next," John Alden continued, "I found my- 
self in a palace, 

liordly and very spacious, with windows of 
sheeted crystal, 

Walls of glistening wood well smoothed and 
painted and polished. 

Carpets and tables and chairs like the regal 
bouBes of England, 

All not far from this hollow. And there In 
the heart of the palace 

Found I a man at his worship, idolatrous, 
impious worship. 

Bending his head in prayer t>efore the crud- 
est of idols. 

Only a box on the wall, and his prayer was 
bold and ambitious : 

•Boston !* he cried, '(>lve me Boston !* and 
greedily raised the petition : 

'Boston !' he urged. 'I want Boston !' and 
long he bowed to the idol. 

Thumping the l)ox in his ravings, and mut- 
tering wild imprecations. 

Then at the last with a sigh be turned from 
his fruitless implorings. 

'I can*t get Boston !' he groaned.*' " Tls so 
with all worship of Idols,** 

Murmured PrisciUa the pious; but Alden, 
unheeding, continued : 

"In another room of the palace I found an- 
other l)ox Idol. 

Over it hovered a maiden attired in most 
marvellous garments. 

Dainty and soft and fine and dyed with the 
hues of the rainbow. 

Such as no loom ever fashioned ; and she too 
bent at her Idol, 



Hilpnt, but HwayliiK hor body and beating 

her foot on th«* carpet. 
While from tlie liox, the idol, burst forth 

an a8toundin»; clamor. 
Singing and Khouting and trumpetx and 

violM and car-Hplittlng muMic, 
Snarling th(> hcuwh with sound and lashing 

the Moul to confusion. 
Thus the p<N>r. silly maiden beat time to the 

chant of her idol. 
Still in another room I saw another box 

Drawn by a pole on a carpet. A woman 

worshipper drew It, 
Drew it and pushed it unceasing, and out 

of the Ih)X came a humming 
Like to a myriad bees, and wearily still the 

Plodded up and down, and pushc<l the Ik>x 

idol before her." 
**Thu8 forever with woman," PrlsclUa the 

sage interjei*tiHl. 
"Wearily plodding through life, and pushing 

some idol l>efore her.'* 

"One more marvel. Prisciila," said Alden, "I 
saw in the palace. 
Bright and shining, complex with wheel and 

shuttle and nee<ile, 
(iuided yet l>y a woman. I saw a skilful 

Two were the pieces of cloth the woman fed 

to the marvel. 
Drawing them swiftly from it, and lo ! they 
were sewwl together." 
*That I shiMild like. John Aiden." Prisciila 

own<><l with n dimple. 
**Pray you, prtK-ure nie oii«» when next you 
travel to dieamiand." 

**Crowde<l the night has l»e<*n. I'riscilla, with 

wonders of magic. 
Hazily now they li«> in a Juuilde of curious 

Pictures that seenu><i to nitive as if they 

were living and breathing. 
Tenuous towiTs that pulsed ki>en messages 

into thi> darknrsM. 
Kto\eM that (-<H)k<><l without fuel, a light that 

liv<>4l In a tHittlr. 
Hows upoD rows «»f )N>oks, ami printed pa 

per so common 
I^Ies of the priceU'ss sheets were wastefully 

tobst'd to a iHmtire." 

•*Ye«, but, John, were the p<*ople you saw in 
this wonderful <lreMniland 
Mortals like you and me. or were they a 
race of angels?" 

"That l«i the puxzle. Prlmilla They lived in 
th*>ir mansions of splendor. 

Cfirdle<l with power and glory and wrappe«l 

in the garments of beauty. 
Yet were their faces worn and yet were they 

sadly harried. 
Masters not of their marvels, but slaves and 

servitors of them." 

"Then," Prisciila resi)ond«»<l. "pray, what is 
the good of your dreaming? 

What is the g(KN] of these wonders, impossi- 
ble, wild, and fantastic? 

Better we made our way. with no more 
fairyland nonsense. 

Straight to Barnstable town, where people 
are peaceful and happy." 

So Prisciila and Alden, climbing out of the 

Took up their journey to Barnstable, through 

the awakening woodland. 
Passing the Sandwich folk and bringing the 

news out of Plymouth. 
Skirting the wide-flung marshes, and glimps- 
ing the sea from the highlands. 
She with a smile demure and Ji*sts well 

aimed at the dreamer. 
He as in wonderland still, his eyes yet 

vacant with slumlK^r, 
Till at the end of the day John Alden and 

merry Prisciila 
Came to the Mulllns farm and found the 

greeting of kindred. 


As our faith burns brighter, longer. 

When a friend's true faith is near. 
So our utten^l prayer grows stronger 

When an added prayer we hear. 

Links of grateful adoration. 

Links of promise, true and plain. 

Links of eager supplication. — 

Lengthen out the glorious chain ! 

"I^reast that's said, the soonest mendeil." — 

So the fretful worldlings call : 
"Iron chains. to(» far extembnl, 

ltn>ak iH'nesth their weight, and full." 

Add the links, and do not heed them ! 

With each link the weight is less. 
Winp'd art> all true prayers, and S|»ee«l them 

Upward to (iod's tenderness. 

Lengthen out the long petition ! — 

Words that tremble, words that shrink. 

Praises, sorrows. Joy, mntritlon; — 
For a chain needs every link. 




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Soft and tender, smooth and white, 
Formed for winning and delight. 
Nature has no lovelier sight, — 
A woman's hand. 

Wrinkled, worn with mnch to do. 
Many a taslc for me and you, 
In all trials good and true, — 
A woman's hand. 

Clasping ours through life and death. 
Lovingly to latest hreath. 
Sweetest thing that comforteth, — 
A woman's hand. 


"Isn't it very lucky." I once heard a young- 
ster say, 
**That it never snows in summer, when the 

snow would melt away? 
And wouldn't it be dreadful if the sun rote 

in the night 
When the people all were gone to bed. their 

eyes shut tight? 
And how do you account for this, that when 

our teacher 's crusty 
Our behavior 's always dreadful and our 

knowledge always rusty? 
And isn't It very fortunate that when her 

temper 's jolly 
We somehow never spoil it by poor lesaons 

or by folly?" 


Said the Man to the Saloon- Keeper, **Youi 
work malevolent 

Increases all my taxes full seventy-flve per 
And the Rummy answered, ''Personal lib- 
erty :" 

Said the Man to the Saloon-Keeper, "Your 
execrable trade 

Is teaching all my rulers their own laws to 
And the Rummy answered, "Personal lib- 
erty I" 

Said the Man to the Saloon -Keeper, "My 
heart Is full uf woe. 

For I see your wretched victims whatever 
way I go." 
And the Rummy answered, "Personal lib- 
erty I" 

Bald the Man to the Saloon-Keeper. "Your 
pestilent decoy 

Is capturing and maddening and ruining my 
And the Rummy answered, "Personal lib- 
erty !" 

Said the Man to the Saloon Keeper, "I'll ex- 
ercise right soon 

My 'personal liberty' to smash your vile 
And the Rummy answered, "Personal fld- 
dlectlcka !" 


[The Prohibition lecturer whose eye t 
put out by a missile thrown at him by 
English mob.] 

He gave an eye that other men might see ; 
He faced the howling rufBans with a smile. 
He turned the other cheek and did not flee. 
And gladly went with them the second mile. 

He came to free the slaves of passion's thrall. 
And did not wonder that he found them 

slaves ; 
He reached far down and did not fear to fftll. 
Nor marvelled that the friends of rum were 


His Master came to break the bonds of sin. 
Broken Himself by those He came to bless. 
Where Jesus went, he dared to enter in ; 
What Christ endures, the servant bears no 


Memorial Day. If II. 

Where shall the veterans inarch to-day. 
With drum and fife and with banners gay. 
Where shall they take their memorial way? 

Let them march by the city hall. 
Let them shout to Its echoing wall, 
"Live for your country the flrst of all." 

Let them march by the great church door. 
There will they cry, "Hear the weak implore. 
Free the oppressed and the wronged restore." 

Let them march by the public school. 
Shouting. "Children, be no man's fool ; 
Ever stand for the righteous rule." 

Let them march by the marts of trade. 
Singing. "Rich men, be not afraid ; 
Of manhood only is true wealth mada.** 

Let them march by the grimy mill, 
Tbera let them cry, "In the present 111 
Work for a better, and better stlU.** 



Let them march by the playboose fair, 
Shouting, ''Pleasnrers debonair. 
Do not forget the world of care.*' 

Let them march to the graveyard near, 
Saying, **Heroe8, our brothers dear. 
Soon we too shall be lying here/' 


Mittrera Morning — well she knows 
How to play at dominoes 
With the children blithe and gay 
Wide awake at break of day. 
Down she throws her bluest skies. 
Matched by Mary with her eyes. 
Next she plays her breezes light, 
Bfatched with Lucy's laughter bright. 
Then she throws her sunshine true, 
Matched with smiles by merry Lu. 
Flowers come now, sweet white and red, 
Matched by Josle's flower-like head. 
For each charm the morning throws 
In this game of dominoes. 
Something sweet the children bring. 
Matching her in everything. 
If the game goes thus all day. 
Who will be the victor, pray? 


Garbed as a Mussulman one day, 
A Paris student Joked and laughed. 

And, just to finish off the play, 
He had the costume photographed. 

Then, still in Moslem garments dressed, 
A sidewalk restaurant he sought. 

And drank with many a clumsy jest 
The wine the grinning waiters brought. 

He drank, till haply came along 

A genuine Mohammedan, 
Keen-eyed, and bold, and quick, and strong, 

A ready and a righteous man. 

"Is *t thus, you renegade," he cried, 
"You break the holy Prophet's law. 

Running that wine, a filthy tide, 
Into your beastly Moslem maw?" 

With that he struck the student's hand. 
The glasses smashed, the bottle broke, 

And curtly bade him understand 
That wine was not for Moslem folk ! 

Ah, there's a lesson loud and clear. 
Worthy of mightiest voice and pen ! 

Let all dishonoring tipplers hear 
That wine is not for Chn§tian men ! 

(The Landlord speaks, A. D. 28.) 

What could be done? The inn was full of 

folks ! 
Ills honor, Marcus Lucius, and his scribes 
Who made the census : honorable men 
From farthest Galilee, come hltherward 
To be enrolled ; high ladies and their lords ; 
The rich, the rabbis, such a noble throng 
As Bethlehem had never seen before. 
And may not see again. And there they were. 
Close herded with their servants, till the Inn 
Was like a hive at swarming-time, and I 
Was fairly crazed among them. 

Could I know 
That thep were so Important? Just the two. 
No servants, just a workman sort of man. 
Leading a donkey, and his wife thereon. 
Drooping and pale, — I saw them not myself. 
My servants must have driven them away ; 
But had I seen them, how was I to know? 
Were inns to welcome stragglers, up and down 
In all our towns from Beersheba to Dan, 
Till He should come? And how were men to 

There was a sign, they say, a heavenly light 
Resplendent ; but I had no time for stars. 
And there were songs of angels in the air 
Out on the hills ; but how was I to hear 
Amid the thousand clamors of an inn? 

Of course, if I ' had known them, who they 

And who was He that should be born that 

For now I learn that they will make Him 

A second David, who will ransom us 
From these Philistine Romans, — who but He 
That feeds an army with a loaf of bread. 
And if a soldier falls. He touches him 
And up he leaps, uninjured? Had I known, 
I would have turned the whole inn upside 

His honor, Marcus Lucius, and the rest. 
And sent them all to stables, had I known. 

So you have seen Him, stranger, and perhaps 
Again will see Him. Prithee say for me, 
I did not know ; and if He comes again 
As He will surely come, with retinue. 
And banners, and an army, tell my Lord 
That all my inn is His, to make amends. 

Alas ! Alas ! To miss a chance like that ! 
This inn that might be chief among them all. 
The birthplace of Messiah, — ^had I known ! 




What If we bachrt women's clothes to laugh 

What if the ladies all wore coats and derbies. 

Aud all wore trousers of the self-same pat- 

And tfheetiron shirts and collars coldly for- 

And looked all just alike, the way we men do? 

What If? It wouldn't be an hour, a minute, 
Befor«> the women would do something to 

Poke in the derby, give the shirt a ruffle, 
DiHco%'er new alignments for the collar. 
Invert the trouserH and create them graceful ! 

BecnUKo. you know, it's not with clothes 

we*n» dealing. 
Not faHhlon-plates nor fabrics nor cosmetics. 
But. buck of all, and just the same without 

MysterlouK. adorable, perplexing. 
Absurd, divine, kaleidoscopic Woman ! 


I'm a common young fellow, I don't own a 

And I needs must look after the pence. 
Yet. my lad. I .nni lf»rd of a castle divine. 

The castle of Twenty Years Hence. 

I have worries and flurries and trial and 

I have trouble of lK>dy and brain. 
JuMt like all the cr«*ntiireii that travel alwut 

Thes(> highways of joy and of pain. 

Hut a leap of the mind. lad. and lo ! I'm se- 
From thoM> sorrows of soul and of sense. 
For I've entered a fortresH where i«olai*e is 
The tHHtU' of Twenty Years Hence. 

What mutt ITS it. pray. thouKh some scoffers 
nuiy Miy 
niiat th<T«> Im no HU<'h euHtle at all? 
Or In Hfi* or In death they must enter, some 
ItM open nn<l opul«>nt hull ! 

And what mattem It. pray, that my liody 
nuiht Htay 

Firmly bound by the Htern pres«>nt tense, 
Sln«f my spirit Ik (nn*, nnil has tieil far away 

To the cuMtle of Twrnty Yi'srs llrnce? 

Oh. th«* wuUii of thut castle are built of de« 
And Itn fltM»rs have a carfM't of p4>ace. 

As I pass the wide portal my sorrows take 
And all my sad worriments cease. 

The fumes of to-day, and the frets of to-day. 
They are nothing, when looked at from 

thence ; 
Yes. a mount to a molehill may dwindle away 
When gazed at from Twenty Years Hence. 

For its windows, my lad. have a marvellous 
As I view all the path I have trtMl ; 
They can soften Its hardness, and blot out Its 
And show me the goo<lness of Ood. 

When the world Is awry. lad. and fortune un- 
And the storm-clouds are angry and dense. 
Take a leap In your mind and I think you 
will And 
Your castle of Twenty Years Hence. 


It was a thrilling Western play 
8hown In New York the other day. 
A snarling wolf broke from his cage 
And leaped across the lighted stage. 
I>own to the startled crowd he sprang; 
With sudden shrieks the building rang. 
And many a bleeding wound he gave 
Itefore a "bobby." swift and brave. 
(}rapple<l his throat, and with a grim 
And steady courage conquered him. 

Itut oftentimes with no demurs 
Do wolveM attack our theatres. — 
Wolves of the foulest shame and sin. 
That l»oldly. unopposed, leap in. 
rnset^n. unheard, their savage jaws; 
rnMM>n. unfelt. their tearing claws; 
Hut t»h. what surgeon can make whole 
Their havoc In the human soul? 


Within my p«>n what words are pent. 
What mystery, what merriment ! 

It hath a door, my pen. s<»mewhere. 
And what a throng is waiting there! 

Bright thoughts are standing all ahoot* 
And (pilvering to Im> let out. 

O could I And the golden key, 
Op4*n the door and set them free! 





[The Maryland Tellowthroat, whose ions to 
many is "witchery, witchery, witchery, 
witch!" to me calls the name of the Massa- 
chusetts seaside village of Scltuate.] 

Where is your "Scituate, Scituate. Scltuate," 
Bright little warbler up In the tree? 

I know a Scltuate, Scltuate, Scituate, 
I know a Scituate hard by the sea. 

New England Scituate, plain little Scltuate, 
Dear little Scituate. quaint as can be. 

It that your "Scituate. Scituate. Scituate'*? 

Is that the theme of your whistling song? 
Or some mysterious Scituate, Scituate. 

Par in the land where the fairies belong? 
Other quite misty. Impalpable Scltuate, 

Whither the fairies and singing birds 
throng ? 

Gold-breasted chanter of "Scltuate, Scltuate.*' 
Whence came the gold? It was surely 
from there ! 

Bright-throated lover of "Scituate, Scituate," 
Warm Is the glow of your Scituate fair ! 

Vigorous pralser of "Scituate, Scituate," 
Surely that region surpasses compare ! 

Lead me, gay warbler, to Scituate, Scituate ; 

Close will I follow wherever you fly. 
I would see Scltuate, Scituate. Scltuate, 

Vocal with carols and bright to the eye ; 
Yes. I would live In your Scituate, Scituate, 

Live there and sing there till singing I die. 

Memorial Day, 1911. 

What are the garlands wo lay on the graves? 

Heapings of blossoms that loveliest are? 
Beauty supreme for the bravest of braves? 

Yes, and an offering holler far. 

Here are the garlands of memories clear. 
Thoughts of the partings, the desperate 

Marches and prisons and hospitals drear. 
Triumphs and woes of those terrible days. 

Garlands of gratitude fadeless and fair 
Lie on the graves of our glorious dead, — 

Grateful for freedom that breathes in the air, 
Grateful for union that floats overhead. 

Garlands of love from the children and wives. 
Garlands of hope for the nation to-day. 

Garlands of offered and consecrate lives. 
These on the graves of our heroes we lay. 

Roses and lilies and violets blue, 

Daffodilt, tulips, and all of the rest,^ 

Ah. dear departed, brave patriots true, 

We know what garlands will please you the 


We spoke no word and we gave no look. 
But we quarrelled, my love and I ; 

And our hearts ran dead as an empty brook. 
Though neither of us knew why. 

And many a time in the later years. 

With reason enough. God wot. 
We have come to reproaches and wrath and 

That soon were gone and forgot ; 

But still we remember the hour malign. 

And must till the day we die. — 
The hour when we quarrelled and made no 

And neither of us knew why. 


Treasures of sound ! Kind words, and words 

of love. 
And helpful words, and merry songs of earth. 
Yes, all your tender vocal ministries 
Living forever on the upper air. 
Borne to you on the winds of heaven's May. 
And whispered to you deep in heaven's woods. 
And gratefully repeated here and there 
By unforgettlng spirits — ah, the store 
Of golden sounds from earth sent heaven- 
Echoed In happy tones for evermore ! 

Treasures of thought ! Decisions flrmly true, 
Still meditations blossoming serene. 
The gleam of high ideals followed far. 
Hold aspirations, plans of perfectness 
Outreacblng brother arms to all the world, — 
These, written in the libraries of heaven. 
And printed deeply on celestial minds, 
Are authorship indeed ! a catalogue 
That Shakespeare well might covet for his 

Treasures of courage ! Wealth of love and 

Of trust when trust becomes an agony. 
Of hope when hope's last ray has fallen dead, 
Of courage in the chasm of despair ! 
These are the pillars of the heavenly homes. 
These arc their statues, these their paintings 

The rich adornlngs of their palaces! 
These are the treasures heaven cannot buy. 
Or God create. The millionaires in these — 
Some gentle mother spending all for love, 
Some patient workman toiling manfully, 



8ome lance-llved hero living for mankind — 

Will walk in aiBuence eternally. 

And none will grudge tbem, but the countless 

Will glorj and rejoice to see them rich. 


The lion was lonely ; 
Said he. "There is only 
One way of driving this gloom from me : 
I must enter into society !" 
80 he asked the t>easts in a manner quite 

To come to hin cave for a little party. 
On the appointed day. 
In a frightened way, 
A parrot flew over his head to say 
Tliat the beasts would be happy the lion to 

But they very much feared he was out of 

Alas !" the lion cried with a groan, 
**And must I then live forever alone?'* 



The word went forth in Fairyland, 

( From ugly fays. In sooth ! ) 
**Young Tom's bad too much candy ; 
ile needs an aching tooth !" 

80 Fever hurried from the south. 
And from the west came Grumps, 

And from the east came Puffy Face, 
And from the north came Thumps. 

They quickly spied a hollow tooth 
(Where Tom had failed to brush) : 

They clapped their little, impish hands, 
And made a silent rush. 

They thumped the tooth, they l>anged the 
The mocking, cruel crew ; 
They ras|>ed the nerve, they ground the 
They pierced it through and through. 

From nine o'clock till twelve o'clock 
They racked the groaning child. 

Till Tom was "almost crasy," 
His mother, "fairly wild." 

At length lN*twccn his moans and cries 
Young Tom was heard to say, 
**ril give my te<>tb l«>ss candy. 
And brush them twice a day." 

Bang, bang! The impish fairy four 

Each dealt a parting thwack. 
Then off they flew, east, west, north, sooth. 

And nevermore came back. 


The cities now are waiting. 

The villages as well. 
To see what tale the census 

Has to tell. 

Chicago wants two million. 
And Podunk wants ten score. 

And each, whate'er the fact Is, 
Will want more. 

And yet for all the counting 

Of sUtisticians wise. 
Our cities are not rated 

By their sise. 

There's Beverly, a hamlet 
Eight delicate in girth. 

But Where's a bigger city 
On the earth? 

And Lincoln, in Nebraska, 

A modest little town. 
To New York or Chicago 

Won't back down. 

And after all the cities 

Have had their say. 
We hear and heed the word from 

Oyster Bay. 


In the grass lay little Elsie on a fSlry holi- 
And she got a fairy blessing from whatever 

came that way. 
For a spider brought her patience, and the 

house dog brought her love. 
And the wise birds brought her music from 

the heavens up above. 
And a brown bee gave her sweetness, and the 

elm- tree gave her grace. 
And a butterfly brought beauty to her dainty 

baby face. 
And the sunshine gave her gladness, and the 

blue sky gave her peace. 
And the oak-tree up above her gave her 

health and strength's increase. 
So we lifted little Elsie from her hiding in 

the grass. 
And the blessed yesrs soon told ns what the 

fairies brought to pass. 


Why should I not be patient? Thoo hast been 
Ho patient, endless patient, with my sla; 
Hast waited long, hast kept Thy lamp allglit. 



Pierdng with love my reckless, wandering 

Hast pitied me, forgiven me, forborne. 
With not a word and not a look of scorn ; 
80 eager hast Thon been to come to me. 
And I have fled In folly far from Thee. 

Why should I not be patient? Why not wait 
However long Thy coming, slow and late? 
80 long was I In turning, late and slow 
In calling to Thee from my depth of woe, 
80 did I try Thy patience, surely now 
I must await Thee with a peaceful brow. 
Must bide Thy coming with a heart serene. 
And know the Father whom I have not seen. 

Nay, In my patient waiting for Thy grace, 
I see, my Qod, the smiling of Thy face, 
I hear Thy voice, I feel Thy loving arm 
Enfolding me protectingly from harm ; 
The silences are vocal with delight. 
The empty air reveals a radiant sight. 
And earth and heaven are in one accord 
As I am waiting, patient, for the Lord. 


It crept— crept — crept — 

Into the rooms where people slept. 

And breathed on the mirrors till they wept. 

In hungry mood 

It stole to the pantry crammed with food 

And left the taste of its saltness there. 

It sat in my chair 

And molded the leather. It filled the air 

With a great gray ghostly horror that was 

not light 
Nor dark, but a pall and a blight. 
It crawled through the trees. 
And changed the woods into islanded seas. 
It prowled — prowled — prowled. 
And all that it touched it fouled. 
It was not the sea, 

My splendid, brave, and glittering sea. 
But It held the ocean as it held me, 
And hushed its waves with Its mystery. 

It was not the sea, for out of the sea there 

With a cheery burst of jubilant flame, 
My comrade the sun that put it to shame, 
And thrust It away 
With its trailings gray, 
And Its shattered horror that had to obey, 
When, lo. a crystalline day ! 
But still, in the midst of the warmth and glow, 
The clearness and fairness. I know. I know. 
That out somewhere, beneath the horizon's 

Lurks the spectre grim. 
And soon. If I turn to sleep. 

It will creep— creep — creep— 

With Its empty mysterious dole 

Back Into the world and back into my soul. 


Time *s a burglar. On his toes 
Noiselessly the rascal goes; 
Steals my hair, and In Its place 
Drops long wrinkles on my face ; 
Steals my vigor, and Instead 
With experience crams my head ; 
Steals the trustfulness of youth, 
Changing It for bitter truth ; 
Steals my friends by slow degrees. 
Leaving only memories ; 
Steals my hope, my daring bold, 
Leaving nought but yellow gold. 
Making these exchanges, he 
Deems it Is no robbery ; 
Yes, and truly ; for his stealth 
Of my dear departed wealth 
Yet has left the Joy of Life, 
You, my daughter and my wife ! 


Forty years of varied weather 
(How the impish decades fly !) 

Since we lived our lives together. 
My dog and 1. 

Forty years of thought and action, 
Failure, struggle, pain, success. 

Play and passion, friendship, faction, 
Curse me, and bless. 

Back through all the mess of living.— 
Time's commingled sun and fog. — 

Merry, faithful, fond, forgiving, 
1 see my dog. 

He was one who knew no meanness. 

Nor the shadow of a lie ; 
Lived we two In spirit-cleanness. 

My dog and I. 

He was one who, always sunny. 
Never knew an anxious thought ; 

Counted glory, counted money, 
As less than nought. 

He was one who knew no other 
Praise or blame than I might bring; 

I was father, I was brother, 
His judge and king ! 

How we frolicked, single-hearted. 

Over meadows, through the wood ! 
How my fretH and fears deiwrted. 

And all was good ! 


Not a word. ; 

By tain Ih'«i 

Ha Id la nch 

■ipmRlve frature 

Kiirtr ri-am of varied roIhr. 

Illgbvaj. brway, nlpailr joit: 
Kvw mi'ii liptlvr wurih the kDuwIOf 

TbBa tbal old <log. 

7>w havF tm-n ■« loyal to mi-, 

Few havr I au truly Hfrved. 

■>w (a hi'urta UDfaMlog dreK u 

Un Iwuuda (u me. 






A vireo sings in the top of the tree 

The whole of the livelong day. 
He sings: "Sep mr I Ix)ok at mcl See me!" 

And that is all he can say. 

lie is well worth looking at. natty and trim 

In his garments of olive green ; 
ile is hard at work on his leafy limb. 

And he wears the friendliest mien. 

But he sings: "Here, here! Look at me! 
Look, look! 

See UK-/ L(»ok at mc ! Do, do!" 
And that is the whole of his wisest book. 

Declaiming it through and through. 

I like his grit, and I like his cheer. 

And surely he's good to see ; 
But I own it is tiresome forever to hear : 

"See me! Look at me I Sec me!'* 


I had a moment's talk w^ith him 
And saw that he was good, — 

A spirit candid to the brim. 
Breathing of brotherhood. 

A fleeting face, a stranger face 

I shall not mcH>t again, 
Yet earth is now a friendlier place. 

And full of better men. 

If such a whiff of soul transforms 

So blesH<Hlly and far. 
What of that world beyond the storms. 

Where none but true men are? 

(Written while he waa Tresident.) 

The sturdy mountain sides have dowered him ; 
The prairie and tin* f<in>st and th«> stream 
Have iK'cn a second college. Nature knows 
To build uncountfMl forms, but chiefly knows 
To build the crowning majesty of man. 
From east to west, through many ranging 

He learned to ken his country, — suddenly. 
At fearful phase, that country calle<i to serve. 
With woodland swing that parts the under- 
He hastens to the dread, imperious task. 
Comrade of hills. gorMlfellow with the trees. 
Well can he blaze a path, ur follow well 
Another's footprints. To its hidden lair 
He knows to track a panther — or a thief. 
The cool, dark stream, familiar with his line. 
Has taught him how to flsh with many baits, 
And tactfully. The facile, swift canoe 

Has l)ound its Indian flbre to his brain. 

As swift, direct, and sure. Hi* could not 

Sweeping across the prairies wild and free 
With men as fret^ and wild, the quibbler's art, 
And so he never learnetY it. In the woods 
One turns to many a craft, as men have need ; 
So he, in wood or city. Where the stars 
Gleam through the reverent branches of the 

He learned the littleness of little men. 
The majesty of great ones, and was taught 
How one man — with the stars — can front 

the world. 
Those stars direct our woodland President, 
Steady his course with quiet influence ; 
I^ad him right onward where thv triumph is, 
Draw him right upward where the blessing is, 
And ever through the crowding cares of state 
l*our the serenity of hills and trees. 


The great gay flag that ran on the Jubilant 
Shouted such words as these : 
"O far is the reach of the beautiful, master- 
ful land. 
From eastern to western sand. 
O fair in the sun, green mile upon golden 
Its wotHlland and cornland smile. 
On hill or vale, by gulf or the mountain gates. 

The' spacious splendor of States. 
And lifted high, as the flash of a purpose 
Its arch of imperial sky !" 

The proud old flag that lay on the listening 
Murmured such words as these : 
"They came from afar, doar sons of tho land 
From realms of the Are, the snow : 
Yet solely for one que<>n country their pulses 
Their hands and their hearts for her ! 
At the l)eck of her flnger, the lightest com- 
mand she crle<l. 
How many have gladly died! 
For th«» Joy they may give her, the glory and 
grace they may give. 
How many devoted live !'* 

The swelling flag, full-blown with the rever- 
ent breeee, 
Rr JoiccMl in such wonis as these : 
"For leagues of manhood, resolute, gentle, 
Their symbol and sign I wave : 
For leagues of womanhood, heroine-true and 



I curve to the c:raciout air ; 
Fur leagues of ctaildtaood, blouoming tall and 
And pure in tbo angels* sight : 
Fur leagues of churches and schools and the 
homes betwet^n, 
I fly in the blue Herene !" 

Then a tattered flag, its hands outstretched 
on the breeze. 
Flung forth such petitions as these : 
"O God of the universe, far to its uttermost 
Be Thou the Qod of this land ! 
When foes from without or in wrath or In 
madness assail. 
Be Thou its inviolate pale ! 
When foes from within their poisonous sor- 
ceries urge. 
Be Thou its besoming scourge ! 
Ileart-red. thought-white, heaven-blue to Thy 
heavens fair, 
lx>. 1 am the nation's prayer !** 


In mart and mine of many a long-leagued 

I sought my jewels and I built my crown : 
The circle shone with gems of bright renown. 
Fiercely coruscant, shlmmerlngly bland; 
But dark amid the light on either hand 
The central |Niint stood empty, dully brown. 
Waiting a stone of splendor that should'drown 
The lenser (Iri's with flame supremely grand. 
I tried a ruhy'H hot. Imperial ball. 
A golden sapphire's bright benignancy, 
A lordly diamond, a topaz tall. 
But none could rule that glittering company; 
Till laHt 1 found it !- queenllest gem of all. 
One soft, swet>t p«'arl ; its name, Serenity. 


With happy heart 1 tread the ways 
Of this world of hate and sin. 

And ev*>rywhere 1 whisper pralsa 
That there true lovers have been. 

Not only In some dim retreat. 

Whore the branrht^ that bend above. 

And the musMy banks, for lovers meet, 
Heem Tupld's imlace of love. 

But sometimes on th<* brick-paved walk 

Of s cIty'H seething street. 
The air yet thrills with lovers' talk. 

And the brick with lovers' feet. 

F(»r where our thronging human rare 
Mo<(t i-easelessly comes and goes. 

Most sure am I that blessed plac« 
Some touch of a lover knows. 

And humdrum shops, and factories. 
And the bustling market square. 

And railroad stations, — spots like these. 
All vulgar, and hot, and bare. — 

Some lovers, I have faith to hold. 
Have hallowed each homely place. 

And changed ita pewter all to gold. 
And its homeliness all to grace. 

And thus I walk with listening ear. 

Wherever I chance to be. 
If some sweet echo I may hear. 

Or some lingering love-light see. 
And so God bless the lovers dear. 

As they bless this world for me ! 


He ^'cleared the way" remorselessly. 

This conscientious bore. 
Removing misconceptions — 

Which were not there before. 

He met objections skilfully — 

That no one ever made ; 
He waged a war with men of straw. 

And did not seem afraid. 

And thus he led, by crafty steps. 

To one triumphant burst. 
Convincingly demonstrating — 

What all believed at flrsL 


A land of freedom ! Who Is free? 

The kindly heart, the trusty brain? 
Or lawless fiends of anarchy. 

Low-browed, black-hearted, and Insanel 

A land of boasted liberty ! 

But lit>erty for doing- -what 7 
For righteousness, or Infamy, 

For manly toll, or beastly plot? 

Free speech ! that loosens from their cftgc 
A thousand passions of the pit. 

Free press ! with license to enrage 
By lying slanders foully writ. 

A refuge for the world's oppressed ! 

And for the world's oppressors, toa 
Its white and red that bleeding brcAit, 

A darting adder for its blue. 

And when. ah. stupid patriots, when 
Shall empty phrases find their graTC*. 

And we. valn-fanded freedom's men. 
No longer wear the yoke of slaves? 



By every form of lawlessnest 

That stalks unfettered through the land. 
Our freedom dwindles, less to less, 

Our bondage wins a stronger hand. 

For flaming words of blinded hate 
Run swift and sure to fiery deed. 

Dost fear the serpent? Do not wait, 
But go, destroy the serpent's seed. 

By brave McKinlcy*s martyr moan 
Be taught, O sorrowing citizen, 

That freedom rests on law alone. 
And law alone — on manly men. 


An ache in the back and an ache in the arms. 

All on account of the baby. 
A fear and a fright and a thousand alarms. 

All on account of the baby. 
And bottles and rattles and whistles and rings. 
From cellar to attic a clutter of things, 
From morning to night and to morning again 
More fuss and more fume than an army of 

And a head that is stupid for lack of its 

And a heart where a flood of anxieties leap^ 

All on account of the baby. 

A joy In the heart and a light in the eyes. 

All on account of the baby. 
A growing content and a growing surprise 

All on account of the baby. 
And patience that conquers a myriad frets. 
And a sunshiny song that another begets. 
And pureness of soul as a baby is pure. 
And sureness of faith as the children are 

And a glory of love between husband and wife, 
And a saner and happier outlook on life. 

All on account of the baby. 


No home so unwise as the teacher's 

That teaches only abroad ; 
No home so accursed as the preacher's 

That tells only strangers of God. 

Ah. there's many a world's care-taker 
\lliose house lacks neatness and grace. 

And there's many a merrymaker 
Whose home is the saddest place. 

And I wonder if up in heaven. 

Where homes are of priceless worth, 
Christ's "many mansions" are given 

To the home-neglecters of earth. 


There once was a merry old monarch 
Who ruled in a frolicsome way. 

He cut up high Jinks with the children. 
And played with them all through the 

"A king always gets into trouble 
When trying to govern," he said. 

"So nothing but marbles and leap-frog 
And tennis shall bother my head." 

Ah, well ! The wise people deposed him. 
"You may govern the children," said they. 
"Why, thHt is exactly what suits me," 
He replied, and went on with his play. 

But it wasn't a year till the people 
All wanted the king back again ; 

They had learned that a ruler of children 
Makes a pretty good ruler of men. 


By every bruise upon this little hand 

I heal with balm and kiss away the grief. 

Better the Father's love I understand. 
Better my own torn spirit flnds relief. 

By all those hours the little hand grew white 
And ah ! so sadly frail upon the bed. 

My darkened soul drew forth into the light. 
My wandering feet to heaven's gates were 

Yea, by the very times this little hand 

Is snatched in wilfulness away from mine. 

Better my own revolts I understand, 
And lay, O God ! more trustful hands In 


The wintry blast was fierce and cold. 
And the lassie's coat was thin and old. 
Her little brother by her side 
Shivere<l and pitifully cried. 
'Come underneath my coat," said she, 
'And see how snug and warm you'll be.*' 
The brother answered, nothing loth, 
'But is it big enough for both?" 
*Yes," said the girl, with cheery wit ; 
'I'll stretch it out a little bit." 

Ah, brothers, sisters, where the mind 

Is bent upon an action kind. 

What though the means are sparely spun. 

And hardly seem to serve for one? 

Stretch them with love, and straightway you 

Win find them amply wide for two ! 




JuMt a little bit of baby. 

Tw(>Dty rounds and nothing more, — 
See Mm floor bis giant daddy. 

Weight two hundred, six feet four. 

Just a little bit of baby ; 

Any beauty? not a trace, — 
See him stealing all the rosea 

From hia lovely mother's face. 

Just a little bit of baby ; 

Ignorant as he can be, — 
See him puztle all the sages 

Of his learned family. 

Just a little bit of baby ; 

Walking? no; nor crawling, even, — 
See him lead a dozen grown-ups 

To the ver> gate of heaven ! 


Scarlet frock and golden curl — 
Such a very little girl — 
liesste wanders up and down 
Where the seaweinl lines are brown. 
Something plainly on her mind. 
Something she would like to find. 
Now, whatever can It be 
Bessie *s seeking In the sea? 
So I ask the little maid. 
And she answers, half afraid : 
"Sir, hign tide has vom^ and gone : 
Where were all the strings tied on?* 

Long years had each man offered freely his 
life for his land. 
Held It forth in a resolute hand. 
Yea, joy for the patriot's death that Is never 
in vain ! 
Who win follOK the men of the Mainet 


Alas for the men of the Maine! I 

Alas for th(> bt'll-burnt that made of that ' 
harbor of |>eace 
A chaos of de.nth and of pain ! 
Still shuddi'rs upon the air a cry that will 
n«'V«»r iM'Mse, 
And thi> water is nnl with the slain. 
Ah ni**. for th«> mothers that weep and the fa- 
thers that nioiin. 
And thi* wives that are waiting alone. 
And the gallant great ship that is shattered 
there, rlvrn In twain. 
And alas for the men of the Maine ! 

Yet Joy for the men of the Maine! 
Yes, joy for the reaping of death that Is bar* 
vest t»f life. 
The loss thnt Is highest of gain ! 
What matter the time or place, and if It were 
peace or strife. 
Or of cbaocc or of mallet iDaaacT 


He holds a title deed to fame 

Who paints In hut^ of Nature's own 

A portrait of that glorious dame 
In but one phase of U>auty shown. 

But he to all our hearts is dear. 

Fair Nature's friendly worshipper. 
Who flings atKNit our grateful sphere 

A million photographs of her ! 

TO C. D. (ilBSON. 

Some construct cathedrals. 
Empires, sonnets, jokes ; 

You. ingenious (tibson. 
Manufacture — folks. 

Through your pencil's magic 

(ilrls are growing tall, 
ModellfHl on your drawings. 

Haughty looka and all. 

Faithfully their lovers 

Follow copy too- 
Tall, t>las«. athletic. 

lk*st the lads can do. 

Haughtiness and ennui, 

(ilbs4Hi. I'll forgl%'e: 
Keep on drawing gianta. 

(tiants that will live! 

(tuerdon of your labors 

Amply worth the while. 
This: that strength 's in fashion. 

And gotid health the style! 


Gloomy the earth on the shadowless daya. 
Sad and monotonous, ghostly with base. 
Gloomy the sky by the clouds overrun. 
IHiys without shadow are days without 

Bright is the earth where the dark ahadows 

i*ast by the l>eams of a glittering aky. 
Traise for the shadows when earth days ar* 

For the darker the ahadowa, tba brighter the 




I'rnD? Id the prlgon of a lonely night. 
At last the ilBrkDHK iiulvcrg to my alKht; 
The Sheriff Suii lins mme to give release. 
And rnr betotf blm throws a crawllnB light. 

Ab. were It not Ihe Rherlll pacine slow, 
tirltnl]' to olTer me (be leaser woe 
Of barren toU. and back To Jail at night,— 
But Mother, aa III daya of long ago ', 

In heaven, O God: I want no Joy but thia: 

bllBS, c Bc ua 

The perfect slwp uoveied by any pain, 
And Mother to awake nic with a kUa. 

Im perl ally free. 
The hay alow-wldeni 
Ruhduea Kb lordly 
lliiBheB Its breakei 
And yields Itaelf entire for i-ieimore 
To ocean's Incommunicable dri-am. 
Who followBl What far-wlngM Bight of 
Spuma the near danelng wave, 
And net and brave 

It beyond all lame control 

The din and dread b 

Hearts dearly good. 

Be dcsperati'lr deaf. I* atemly Mind, 

Fllrg yourwir out Into forget fulness. 

Throiiub tbe auatere, anlrodden waatea of k! 
Heeklng what thing Is Ihere. 

What you aball meet on tbla myslerloua tn 

Ued llghtnlnga crash lag through demon 


Here In (hit 
Thnl you at 
Though pur 

leaa i 

n It. 

e Infinite 

~ . .-- - — though spirit reel 

Wltb vaalneas of the waters and Ihe dread 
or Dotblngneas. and though your soul la dead. 
And all la dead above you and below 
And la the rog-fillrd void to which you go, 
Still must you go invincible, aerene, 
Still mu«t you proudly know 


Tbla awful weight of loneliness, nor turn 
Back to Ibe homely Lay for which we yearn, 
Back to the cottage comtorta fondly fair? 

■r takes this path. 
At peril of bot shame and branding nratli 
Must not turn back. 
But preaa. press, press 
L'pon the vague, unending, glorious trail. 
Whatever the ocean bath. 
Who oDce baa felt (be aea'sweep. nevermore 
May dare to know the eonflnei of the ahore. 




Bessie bath a dimpled chin. 

Mouth with smile upon It, 
Eyes of blue to glory In, 

But — she hath a bonnet. 

That's the only thing I see 
When she dares to don It ; 

Climax of all witchery 
Lies in Bessie's bonnet. 

Yet, though I have sung the spell 

Oft In many a sonnet. 
To this day 1 cannot tell 

One thing that is on It. 

Were It off her dainty head. 
Who would care to con it? 

Bhe*9 the charm, when all is said. 
Of her dainty bonnet. 


Mr. Ananias Bounce 

Has the honor to announce 

The first issue of The Day, 

Number Naughty-Naught, Broadway. 

Nothing ever seen as yet 

Touches it ; videlicet: 

Its supreme desire shall be 

Not for slse. but brevity. 

All the news, with sober sense. 

It will test, assort, condense. 

Throw the straw and husks away. 

Give the kernel In The Day. 

When it does not chance to know. 

It will dare to tell you ao. 

When a thing should not be told. 

Though editions might be sold. 

Though its readers' optics itch. 

It will scorn to handle pitch. 

What it honestly believes. 

It will wear upon its sleeves. 

Though the whole two-cented town 

Shall unite to "call It down." 

As to parties. It will dare 

Get Its truth from everywhere. 

As to news, it will report 

More the church and less the court. 

More the good that men have done 

Than the sin beneath the sun. 

It will not attempt to be 

A diurnal library : 

Comic Weekly. Art Review, 

Fashion Journal. Sporting, too. 

Literary Magaxlne. 

Kclentiflc nulli'tln. 

Chlldren'N Paper. Kitchen (iulde. 

Konnon IMgeiit. Poet's Pride! 

ThuM it will have time to be 

Quit** a NcwspaiM>r. j-ou see ! 

As for its advertisements. 

(Listen, O ye men of sense!) 
Fake or honest, large or small. 
It will print no "ad" at all. 
Now that it may meet with ease 
Probable emergencies — 
Not a buyer In the crowd — 
It is suitably endoKed. 
Thus its virtue will endure ; 
Thus its courage we insure ; 
For if buyers, in the end. 
Fail, for foe or lack of friend. 
We're prepared on any day 
Just to give the sheet away ! 
Knowing how success succeeds. 
When a man no friendship needa. 
On immediate favor counts 
Mr. Ananias Bounce. 


There is nothing so hollow as pens. 
There is nothing so gloomy as Ink. 

When a man is obliged to think of something. 
And doesn't know what to think. 

There is nothing so blank as paper. 
There is nothing so void as a brain. 

When a man has an hour to think up a 
And has thought for an hour In vain. 

I know how a ghost must feel 
As he tries with his fingers of air 

To convey a mouthful of good beefstesk 
To the mouth that isn't there. 


Said the Snake to the Snail : "How absurdly 

you crawl ! 
I scarcely can see you are moving at alL" 

Said the Hen to the Snake, "With no leg and 

no wing. 
No wonder you travel so slowly, poor thing !** 

Said the Fox to the Hen, "You have wlnga, 

that is true ; 
But what are your wings when I get after 


Said the Wren to the Fox : "Don't ysu think 

you are spry ! 
But what are your legx to a bird that can 


Said the Hawk to the Wren, "In my master- 
ful flight 
Your fluttering pace is a leisurely sight !" 

Said the Snail to them all : "This big world 
Is my Mteeil, 



And I travel upon it as fast as I need — 
Yes, daily upon it, in spite of your smiles. 
No less than three-fourths of a million of 

You thinic you excel in your hurrying race : 
Can any one beat me in traversing space?" 



Tall was my camel and laden high, 
And small the gate as a needle's eye. 

The city within was very fair. 

And I and my camel would enter there. 

"You must lower your load," the porter cried, 
"You must throw away that bundle of pride. 

This I did, but the load was great. 
Far too wide for the narrow gate. 

"Now," said the porter, "to make it less, 
Discard that hamper of selfishness." 

1 obeyed, though with much ado. 
Yet still nor camel nor I got through. 

"Ah," said the porter, "your load must hold 
Some little package of trust-in-gold." 

The merest handful was all I had. 
Yet, "Throw it away," the porter bade. 

Then, lo, a marvel ! the camel tall 
Shrank to the size of the portal small. 

And all my riches, a vast estate. 
Easily passed through the narrow gate ! 


Evening, and morning, and at noon will I 
pray. — P». 55:17, 

At evening, the labor done. 
The frets departed with the sun. 
The long night reaching out before, 
I find in prayer an open door. 
And entering where none intrude. 
Rejoice in GocTs kind solitude. 

At morning, in the eager gray 
Aquiver with the coming day. 
Strong from the bath ol^calm repose 
To toil with friends or fight with foes, 
I pause upon the threshold there. 
And win a Helper with a prayer. 

At noon, amid the Jostling crowd. 
The snarling clamor shrill and lond, 

Within the throng I find again 
That spot undesecrate of men. 
And on the ground by thousands trod 
Am blessedly alone with Ood ! 


Praise Ood ! Praise God ! Give me my tools 

Oh, let me grasp a hammer and a saw ! 
Bring me a nail, and any piece of wood. 
Come, see me shut my hand and open it. 
And watch my nimble fingers twirl a ring. 
How good are solids !^-oak, and stone, and 

And rough and smooth, and straight and 

curved and round ! 
Here, Hannah : for these long and weary 

My hand has ached to smooth your shining 

And touch your dimpled cheek. Come, wife, 

and see: 
I am a man again, a man for work, 
A man for earning bread and clothes and 

A man, and not a useless hold-the-hand ; 
A man, no more a bandaged cumberer. 
Oh, blessed Sabbath of all Sabbath days ! 

And did you hear them muttering at Him? 
And did you see them looking sour at me? 
They'll cast me from the synagogue, per- 
chance ; 
But let them : I've a hand, a hand, a hand ! 
And ah, dear wife, to think He goes about 
So quietly, and does such things as this, 
Making poor half-men whole, in hand and 

In eye and ear and witless maniac mind. 
To get such praise as that ! W«ll, here's a 

A strong, true hand that now is wholly His, 
To work or fight for Him, or what He will ; 
For He has been the Hand of God to me. 


I'll give my orator great store of words. 
Then add forgetfulness of words; give tact. 
But add forgetfulness that one must please ; 
Give self-willed power, then add forgetfulness 
Of self, and power, in love for other men. 
I'll make my orator of fire and snow ; 
Fire that a sullen audience cannot quench. 
Snow that the fiame of passion cannot fire. 
Let him lose fear of men in love of truth. 
Let him become a purpose, not a man ; 
Nay, rather, twice a man. And let him live 
Not in men's meeting hands, bnt in their lives 



That meet his purpose. As for chatterers 
Whose goal each hour is that poor hour's 

Who wuulfl not gladly die to speech, if so 
Their theme might live, — no orators are thejr. 
Though smooth their words and proud their 

Adorned with all the pomp of golden mouths. 
There's not a moclcing-bird but beats the air 
More orator than they. O godlike men. 
That dare to utter God's words after Him, 
By self-denial and glad suffering 
Making those words your own, these gather- 
ing times 
Have need of you. O teach our magpie race 
The living art of fruitful utterance. 
Speak words that are events. The tongue- 
tied horde. 
Their manliness in Mammon's gyves or 

Teach them how men should talk. Rebuke 

the wrong 
And praise the right with heartiness, and know 
The whole wide universe is ear to you. 


Encircled by the sea, a stony ledge 

Lies at the breaker's edge. 
The ebbing and the flowing of the tide 

Disclose the rock, and hide. 
Now like a granite liun crouching there 

Its head is black In air. 
And now the whelming waters In a night 

Have stolen It from sight. 

Still to the nether deep its rocky root 

And stone foundations shoot ; 
Far down, far down, its granite pillar goes 

Where tide nor ebbs nor flows, 
Unseen or seen, beneath the surges' roar. 

Based on earth's central core. 

What cares the rock, though now Its head Is 

Now hidden from the sky, — 
A little more, perchance a little less. 

For human eyes to guess? 
What matter where the fickle waters ninT 

The rock and Earth are one ! 

And thus, poor friends, who monm, nncom- 
Your loved, untimely dead. 
What though the murky and relentless sea 

Rose unexpectedly. 
And that dear form your Ufe were given to 
Lies underneath the wave? 

IxMk with the leaping eye of conqoering faith 
The gloomy flood beneath : 

Well do you know to what unending ends 

That vanished life extends ; 
Well do you know what vast Foundation Stone 

Its hope was fixed upon. 
Based on the quiet, peaceful, ocean floor. — 

The life for evermore I 

Death'a tide »ome day will aet its caplives 
There »haU be no more §ea ! 


The railroad has a table 
Where many daily nu'et. 

And may you like the viandi) 
It furnishes tu oat ! 

ImprimUi, the substantiaU 
For all the motley crew^ 

It hastily commingles. 
And Jumbles in a ateir. 

Then, though you paid a dollar, 
A qoarter or a nickel. 

Impartially it serves you 
A most tremendous pickle. 

And finally, to make you 

As quiet as a lumb. 
It saccharinely offers 

A highly seasoned Jam! 


(tod laid upon my back a grievous load. 
A heavy cross to bear along the road. 

I staggered on, and lo ! one weary day. 
An angry lion sprang across my way. 

I prayed to God, and swift at His command 
The cross became a weapon in my hand. 

It slew my raging enemy, and then 
Became a cross upon my back again. 

I faltered many a league, until at length. 
Groaning, I fell, and had no further strength. 

**0 God," I cried. "I am so weak and lame '" 
Then straight my cross a wIngM staff be- 

It swept me on till I regained the losa. 
Then leaped upon my back, again a cross. 

I reached a desert. O'er the bamlng track 
I persevered, the cross upon my hack. 

No shade was there, and In the cruel sun 
I sank at last, and thought my days were 



But lo ! the Lord works many a blest sur- 
prise — 
The cross became a tree before my eyes ! 

I 8lept ; I woke, to feel the strength of ten. 
I found the cross upon my back again. 

And thus through all my days, from that to 

The cross, my burden, has become my bliss ; 

Nor ever shall I lay the burden down. 
For God some day will make the cross a 
crown I 


A glimpse of red eyes in the street 

As I hurry along ; 
A face too pale to be sweet, 

Tuo sad to be strong; 

A face that will nevermore know, 

Though it die in its pride. 
That last sad solace of woe — 

The power to hide. 

Ah, sister, we seem not to care, 

Nor know what to do ; 
But the street has become one long prayer 

In pity of you. 


What shall I pack up to carry 
From the old year to the new? 

I'll leave out the frets that harry. 
Thoughts unjust and doubts untrue. 

Angry words — ah, how I rue them ! 

Scltish deeds and choices blind — 
Any one is welcome to them ! 

I shall leave them all behind. 

Plans? the trunk would need be double. 

Hopes? they'd burst the stoutest lid. 
Sharp ambitions? last year's stubble! 

Take them, old year ! Keep them hid ! 

All my fears shall be forsaken. 

All my failures manifold ; 
Nothing gloomy shall be taken 

To the new year from the old. 

But I'll pack the sweet remembrance 
Of dear friendship's least delight ; 

All my Jokes — I'll carry them hence; 
All my store of fancies bright ; 

My contentment— ^ould 'twere greater! 
All the courage I possess; 

All my trust — there's not much weight there ! 
All my faith, or more or less ; 

All my tasks ! I'll not abandon 
One of these, my pride, my health ; 

Every trivial or grand one 
Is a noble mine of wealth. 

And I'll pack my choicest treasure. 
Smiles I've seen, and praises heard. 

Memories of unselfish pleasure. 
Cheery looks, the kindly word. 

Ah, my riches silence cavil ! 

To my rags I bid adieu ! 
Like a Croesus I shall travel 

From the old year to the new. 


Robed with might on seas and lands, 

Lo, the conquering merchant-bands ! 

Not a commerce so august 

But is mastered by a trust. 

Not a traflSc second-rate 

But a trust has made it great. 

Whiskey, matches, ships, and meat. 

Things to wear and things to eat, 

Schoolbooks, ice, molasses, screws. 

Things to play with and to use. 

Common things and superfine. 

Each is in some vast combine. 

We shall make them, if we must. 

At the wages of the trust. 

We shall buy them, fall or rise. 

At the trust's Imperial price. 

We may swallow for our food 

What the trust considers good, 

And obediently wear 

Just the clothes the trust can spare. 

This — until the buyers learn 

To amalgamate in turn ; 

This — ^until we boldly choose 

To confederate those that uae. 

Once, in Boston, men were free 
For a certain sport with tea. 
Better cereal coffee, then, 
And retain the rights of men ! 
Naught is a "necessity," 
Bought with price of liberty. 
Men whose wills and hearts are stout 
Gladly learn — to do tcithout. 

Let us, mediocre folk. 

Break the chain and smash the yoke. 

Trusts and corners, low and high. 

All are naught — unless we buy. 

Let us match their money-lust 
•With a monster anti-trust. 

Let us quietly declare : 
**If the seller is unfair. 

If his workmen, underfed. 



Cry for Justice and for bread. 
If his prices he shall fix 
Not by nature but by tricks — 
Till his heart or courage melts. 
We will live on aomcthing the I 
And the money thus we save, 
Uls poor laborers shall hare/* 
Thus the rich whose wealth Is made 
Worthily by worthy trade. 
Thus the toiling poor that lie 
In a hopeless slarery. 
Brothers, made of common dust. 
Both shall prosper from one trust ! 

Crude? quixotic? Juvenile? 
Call the notion what you will. 
Only know that not for aye 
Shall the few the many sway ; 
Only know that brotherhood 
Is omnipotent for good. 
And that men may safely — trust — 
In the triumph of the Just ! 


Revival? When the atmosphere 
Grows tense, like air around a bier? 
When deacons pray In awful tones. 
And not a hymn but ends with groans? 
When children go to church In fright ? 
When meetings last through half the night? 
When wild sensations overlap, 
And no one knows what next may hap? 
Revival ? No ! Such signs as these 
Have vanished with dead centuries. 

But this Is a revival now : 
When Christian hearts In longing Imw ; 
When Christian voices boldly dare 
The frank appeal, the fervent prayer; 
When Christian hands are quick io greet 
The first non-Chrlstlan man they meet : 
When songs in earnest pleading rise. 
And hope Is nhinlng in our eyes : 
When thoughtful spirits look m-lthin 
And cleanse their hearts from secret sin ; 
When love Is eager to rellove 
The souls that tremble, doubt, or grieve ; 
When homes, with happiness aglow. 
Are like a bit of heavt n below ; 
Wher. buHln<ss m<'n deal honestly. 
And lives nre lived In purity : 
'TIs then. O ChrlMt of <;od ! 'tis then 
Thy Spirit moves the souls of men ; 
*Tls then revivals come, and bless 
The sIn-sIck world with righteousness. 

For not In angry thunder-blast. 
Or crashing wave that bends the mast. 
Or earthquake shock that r«*nds the ground 
Are natur«*'H mightiest forces found ; 
But wberr the sunshine pours Its grace. 

And rain makes glad some thirsty place. 

And little seeds all silently 

Expand to grasa and flower and tree. 


Mistress Science, strong and fair. 
Now can seise the nimble air. 
Press It, crush It. torture It, 
With her wUd, titanic wit. 
To a liquid blue and cold. 
Tamely by the gallon sold. 

All the graces of the sky 
In that deadly fluid die. 
Bathe In It a swallow's wing: 
He no more will fly or sing. 
Dip a rose therein : alas ! 
It t>ecomes a rose of glass. 

Such a transformation dread 
Into coldness dull and dead 
They create who force and press 
Dear religion's kindliness 
To a cold and formal thing. 
Shorn of fragrance, bare of wing. 

I^t religion range on high 
Through the reachea of the aky ; 
Let the fruitful dews expand 
Tin they brighten every land; 
Flowers and birds and sunny cheer 
Grace religion's atmosphere ! 


(Suggested by a poem by W. D. HowsUsl) 

I^rd. all my litany 
MlngltMl with praise must be; 
All my thanki^vlngs rise 
Joined with remorseful cries, — 
My sin so mocks Thy name. 
Thy grace so mends my shame. 

Lord, for the angry word 
(That only Thou haKt heard) ; 
lx>rd. for the wish to sin 
(That wish alone has l>een), — 
I pray Thee, pardon me ; 
(t offer tkanka to Thee!) 

Lord, for the baneful creed 
(That has not iwssed to deed) ; 
Ix>rd. for the acted wrong 
(Fought by a conscience strong), — 
I pray Thee, pardon me *. 
(J offer thomU to Tkmt) 

I.ord. for the stinging hiss 
(That shamed Itself to a kiss) ; 
Ixird. for the tasks undone 
(That spur Thy workman oo)« — 



I pray Thee, pardon me; 
(I offer thankB to Thee I) 

Yes, for mjr heart of sin 
Thy grace Is strong to win ; 
Yes, Lord, for all the woe 
Wherein Thy mercies glow,- 
I offer thanks to Thee, 
And pray Thee, pardon met 


Whence came this load that bends me to the 
ground ? 
'*It Is the weights you have on others bound. 


What are these pains that through my being 

crash ? 
"The baclcward stings of your own scorpion 

What is this hissing that affrights my ear? 
'*The echo of your own harsh words yon hear." 

And what this woe that o'er my spirit rolls? 
'*The sadness you haye brought to other souls.*' 



The time will come 
When, though the hottest fire on earth should 

To warm the currents through thy veins that 

No August flame or mild September glow 
Thy wintry heart and ice-bound blood shall 

Hast thou the fire of love, devotion's heat. 
An eager, flaming soul wherewith to meet 
That chilling time? 

The time will come 

When, though the sweetest bells on earth 
should ring, 

The noblest organ peal aiid chorus sing, 

Men shout thy praise and love's wild plead- 
ing call, 

Thou Shalt be deaf and distant from It all. 

What hymn hast thou In store, what words 
of cheer. 

What spirit voices for thy spirit ear 
In that stin time? 

The time will come 
When, though the landscape roll its beauty 

Though fair the skies and woods and rivers 

Though dearest loving faces look on thee. 
No gleam of all shall thy strained vision see. 
Hast thou prepared some prospect of delight. 
Some opening vistas for thy trembling aigfat 
In that dark time? 

Ah, if that time 
Follow a lifetime filled with work and love. 
Then, while the old world dies, the heavens 

Shall burst to warmth and fragrance, sight 

and sound. 
While glad remembered faces flock around. 
And strength comes back and more, and joy» 

far more. 
Skill, beauty, music, o'er and o'er and o'er. 
Through endless time ! 


A dear old pallid face, night after night. 
So patient ! at the window. Now 'tis dead — 
The window, not the face. What flres were fed 
In those long waitings till I came in sight, 
And then how flashed dear love's dear beacon 

Glad in that glad old face ! I should have sped 
Winged to my waiting lover, but, instead, 
I met her warmth with chill, her love with 

And yet I know it is my lover's Joy 
To sit in heaven, somewhere along the way 
That I shall take, and wait there for her boy. 
May all the years, dear Lord, be but a day ; 
Peaceful the window where she makes her 

Wait with her^ happy angels, till I come ! 


Take a little dash of water cold. 
And a little leaven of prayer. 

And a little bit of morning gold 
Dissolved In the tnomlng air. 

Add to your meal some merriment. 
And a thought for kith and kin ; 

And then, as your prime ingredient, 
A plenty of work throw in. 

But spice it all with the essence of love 

And a little whiff of play ; 
Let a wise old Book and a glance above 

Complete the well-made day. 


Closer is the Lord's protection 

Than a near investing wall ; 
Closer than a moat around me ; 

Closer than a tower tall ; 
Closer than a suit of armor. 

Or my hands and feet can be ; 
For against my own assailing 

His protection keepeth me ! 


Whfiv (Hvan rrarhrs t>M and wondfTtoI 
ttn pTi>r-rhani[lDir IraguM of liquid Mcbt. 
BMllniE mlrmt thf aborp. but Iradlai on 
Tbr irdrnt vlnlon. oD anJ ever un. 
Rffunil (lir I'lrrlrd niaririn of Ibr rnkj. 
To fabird IhIkdiU *i.d i» thoughla ot Oott. 
Tllerr wKb wbat radiance of nuijnt; 
The null appriHirbci, all (bv hraTeua III 
Wllh I..rrhn uf bl* ruurl^n, all tbc bm 
I^M wllh rpfplrnclrnt ciri"-tti tor bl« fret! 
And hiiw ttar OamlDK arcbn lilar* and rins 
Wllb rolor ulviM »■ mj' Inn) rhp aan 
Bippii rr»m (hr liirlnlbk cbarint nf ihe nlfht 
And liri* bin icunirn *«>plrp u>r tbe wuTld ! 
Heboid I ate- man hernme* lm|>erlal. 
And (•earn hlmarlf with finer ninndeace, 
Por he. jrn. he. and haply wba but he. 
SIta iin a itamne ru-tuireretsn nf Ihe dtj. 
And ainllr* al (ear and lull and di'atlaj. 

Bnl dea 

en. tar from oMan sr lb* lerrl sweep 
Of broad saTaiiDait. Ibronsh (he trlendly 

e maDr-branchlnR. rloae. and friendly trees. 

• MT the un approarblDR Drlthl»rl]r. 
Eacb waltlns leaf i* ihlnlaji with Ibe Joj 
lie Blnn brtore bin : croned and Inter- 

Wllb woiHlland myiterlea ot dark dealKn. 
Tbe iDftl; bappr akj pnura (ladneMi dowa, 
Till all Ibe ibadnw* twinkle with  amlle, 

1 all Ibe bUrknevwi dloolre away. 
There'* mil a twU upon  lowly tniib. 

bit of miiM that itpma  bidden atone. 

Or tlnlral ant Ibal creepa aluo* the invund. 

But known bla nelRhbor Bun. and. knowlBc 

Tbe alender brook that wlada Oiroaab feray 

Talks of bim to Ihe pebbles : bnlterfllea 
Tarry the word of him, and reverent tbrnafa 
KInca In hla praise the aBlhem of tbe wooda. 




Thai chmt tbe Cbiiitt not clothed In wt 

PlasblDR wllb J«wel«. girt witb iteelr pride 
Ad emplre-fojndrr builder ol a tlirone 
Uplifted bigh above tbe mau of meu 
And glltterlnB OD  million daiiled efea 
But taking little cbltdren on Ilia koee, 
ADd pointing wear; flsherg to a calcb. 
ADd lingering bCHlde a village well 
To belp a barlot Into purity. 
ADd trudglHE up BDd down tbe fllntj ways 
Of com mo □ life wltb liameir, com mo d men, 
Joat to bItc here a smile, a warning tbere. 
Or glorify a meal by sbarins It. 
And so He lirougbt tbe beavens Terjr near, 
For men to toucb, and love, and reat apon. 
And wrap tbeir ahlvering bodlea In lla glow. 
TbDB Id tbe bidden darkneaa of tbe world, 
Tbe larking fears, the teBterlng secret sins. 
He brnaght tbe medicine of Ugbt : and tbua 
To lonply aouls deaiialrlag of a friend, 
And empty aoult deapalrlng of a good. 
And bitter souls despairing of a Qod. 

He brougbt a (rlendllness tbat never falla. 
Tbe treasure key of all and endleaa wealtb 
And showed them God low knoeking at their 

O Sun of rlRbteousneaa. Tbou glorious 0ns 
Thou Majesty of majeatlea. Tbou Might, 
Thou WlHdom. Thou Supreme Of vastneaiea 
How good to know Thee In our woodland wa; 
And greet Thee through the parting of t 

lent T Be not swift 

approaching grace. 

Rather ape tbat magic plate 
Where the eager Quids wait 
Some appeal of Joy, to laugb 
In a lastlDg photograph I 




The dear Lord will provide, friend. 

The things that are hett. 
Have you prayed for more work? 

He may nend you more real, 
la joy your petition. 

And ia it denied? 
Then be grateful that aorrow 

The Lord will provide ! 

Doea God anawer with aickneaa 

Your prayer for more health ? 
Doea He answer with poverty 

When you aak Him for wealth? 
Ia your prayer for aucceaaea 

With failurea supplied? 
Thank the Lord, then, that failures 

The Lonf will provide ! 

When you pray, do you think 

The Lord need§ to be told? 
Ah, He knowa what la best 

Both to give and withhold. 
*Tia the Lord ia the aender. 

Whatever betide ; 
Praiae the Lord, then, whatever 

The Lord will provide ! 


Hcience, Science, quickly speed! 
Save us in our bitter need ! 
See us, see the pallid folk 
Bent beneath a groaning yoke. 
Body, mind, and spirit bent 
Under woes malevolent. 
Hot consumption slays us here 
With alternate hope and fear ; 
Gnawing cancera alowly eat. 
Racking gout enchains our feet. 
Fevers light their funeral (Ire, 
Palsies shake and never tire. 
Fierce neuralgias sh»ot thrlr pains. 
Madness leaps upon our brains. 
Epilepsy faints and foams. 
Typhoid lurks within our homes. 
Thick diphtheria chokes our breath, 
(^old pneumonia beckons death. 
And a thousand Ills beside 
Whelm us in a murky tide. 
Science, Science, quickly speed ! 
Save us In our bitter need ! 
For the world is very fair. 
And our work Is waiting there. 
And our dear ones, oh, so white 
Are their faces In the night ! 
And we're waiting eagerly. 
Science, for the remedy. 
Oh. are half the marvels true, 
Hopeful, we have heard from you. 
That uncoDquered brain of yours 

Soon will find a thousand curea. 
Stop the carnage, raise the weak« 
Bring the roae to every cheek ! 
Oh, in our time do It all ! 
It la we that moan and calL 
What to us are pestilence, 
Fevera, death, a decade hence? 
It la we that faint and fear. 
We. and those that hold us dear. 
In our day avert the doom ; 
Science, Science, quickly come! 


I bleaa Thee, Lord, who hast restored mj 

Whtre were my thanks through all my years 

of light? 

Thou llfteat me again ; Thy praise I tell ; 
Where Waa my gratitude before I fell? 

Thou healest me ; glad thanks to Thee belong ; 
Alas, my thankleaa heart when I was strong ! 

Hy fetters Thou doat looae; all praiae t» 

And yet I praised Thee not when I waa free. 

I bleaa Thee, who dost all my Ills remove ; 
But ah, when all was well, where was my 


There's a happy time a-coming when your 
worries will be over, 
When your bluea will all be golden and 
your frowns all amoothcd away. 
When your soul will be In merriment, your 
fortune be in clover; 

Why not to^lay? 

There's a happy time a-comlng when youll 
count the gold of heaven 
As you balance up your ledger, — what you 
get and what you pay ; 
When you'll ralae your human spirits with 
the angela* happy leaven ; 
Why not to^lay? 

There's a happy time a-comIng when your 
hatreds will be buried. — 
In the sea of love be buried, and be an- 
chored down to stay ; 
Brother love will come to bleas you. o'er 
those charmfd waters ferried ; 
Why not to^lay? 

There's a happy time a-comIng when your 
eyes will see with wonder 
All the beauties and the graces of th« 
friends a*»out your way ; 



And you'll hasten then to praise them e'er 
your lives be torn asunder; 
Why not to-day? 

There's a happy time a-coming when the sin 
so long your master 
Will be grappled with and wrestled with 
in fierce, determined fray, — 
When God's grace will drive It from you and 
your hate will drive it faster ; 
Why not to-day? 

There's a happy time a-coming when the task 
so long neglected 
Will be manfully attempted with no instant 
of delay. 
And your noble resolutions into high result 
erected ; 

Why not to-day? 

There's a happy time a-coming when all good 
in earth and heaven, 
When all power and all promise will be 
yours for aye and aye ; 
You are eager, God is eager, — for the asking 
all is given ; 

Why not to-day? 


It is a narrow inn, shall I confess? 
But amply broad enough for weariness. 

No lights flare out a welcome ; but what cheer. 
What flowing sweet tranquillity is here! 

All silent is the caravansery. 

And no obsequious landlord welcomes me. 

A-weary from the ways of toil and sin, 
Through one half-open door I stumble In. 

Soft on the yielding floor I sink and fall, 
The only guest in that mysterious hall. 

Unseen, unheard, the servants come and go. 
And weave a weird bewitchment to and fro. 

A noiseless butler pours a shadowy wine, 
And witless, prone upon my back, I dine. 

Smooth hands caress me, reached I know not 

And lay a subtle charm on every sense. 

Kind porters come atiptoe, grave and gray. 
And bear my heavy burdens all away. 

Wliat passes there I never rightly ken. 
So strange the place from all the modes of 

But whether more or little understood, 
I hereby testify the inn is good. 

And if, as gossip rumors all agree. 
This landlord keeps another hostelry. 

Where, at the end of my last journey, I 
A little longer while am like to lie, 

I'll know that second inn is kind as this. 
And greet its narrow doorway with a kiss. 


I threw my mantle over my head. 
But my sin had dyed the mantle red. 
So I hid my face in my hands instead. 

But my hands with sin's leprosy were white, 
So I closed my eyes ; and that inward sight 
Showed the sin enthroned in my spirit's night ! 


When the nerve is alive, and the dentist cuts 

and grinds. 
There are fully flfty pains he invariably flnds. 
There are pains that are hot, there are pains 

that are cold, « 

There are big and swelling pains that the 

mouth can hardly hold. 
There are pains like a needle, there are pains 

like a saw. 
There are pains that explode and other pains 

that gnaw — 
When the nerve of the tooth is alive. 

When the nerve is dead, let the dentist grind 

You can sit and smile, quite at ease and even 

He can do his worst, and he doesn't hurt a 

He can chisel and bore and you hardly think 

of it. 
But the tooth, alas! needs the nerve to keep 

it well. 
And It soon decays and becomes a brittle 

When the nerve of the tooth Is dead. 

When the nerve of the soul is alive to sin 

and woe. 
How we groan at wrongs, and we will not 

have them so. 
How we sigh and weep at the weary lot of 

How we tug and pull Just to help the best we 

How we heal the sick, how we bolster up the 

How we range afar as the wretched lost we 

When the nerve of the soul is alive. 



WheD the nerve of the 9001 is dead we live 

at ease. 
Sin, woe, and want, — let them ravage as they 

Let tho wlclKed rule, let the weary faint and 

We are deaf and blind to the sorrow of it all. 
But alas ! for the soul as it slowly shrinks 

As it rots and fades in an ugly, swift decay. 
When the nerve of the soul is dead. 

c;etter8 and givers. 

Know yourself not of the light, if you bide at 

home ; 
Know yourself not of the beat, if aught 

can hold you ; 
Know yourself not of God. if the widest dome 
That ever a hermit soul built up for itself 

enfold you. 
There are only two kinds of men among all 

that live, — 
The men that live to g«*t, and the men that 

get to give. 


I thank Thee. Father, once again 
For many blessings gladly known. 

And many mure l>eyond my kon 

That Thou dost mh* and Thou alone ; 

But most of all my heart 1 raise 

To praise Thee for the power to praise. 

Thy bounty, it is wondrous kind : 
But oh. the smiling of Thy face ! 

My life is all in love designed. 

But Thou Thyself art grace of grace, — 

ThyHelf, oh. infinitely more 

Than all Thy bounty's golden store. 

That I fan feel Thy FatherhtHMl. 

That 1 can prens my hand In Thine. 
That I can know that Thou art good. 

And all Thy power Is love divine, — 
This knowledge every l»liss outranks; 
I thank Thi^c for the gift of thanks. 


Before the moaning iMir. 

The tumult of the xea ; 
Behind it. quiet waters and a star. 

The harlKjr light — for me. 

Long, long our broken boat 
Has m-andered in the waves. 

Battling for life amid the wrecks afloat 
Over the ocean graves. 

But now impulsions strong 

In sea and air combine 
Mysteriously to hurry us along 

Swift to the breaker line. 

What heed of hidden rock 

Where lurking demons are, 
What memory of tempest's angry shock 

When we have crossed the bar? 

Oh, dear ones soon to meet ! 

Oh, heaven*s tranquillity ! 
We shall fall down and kiss our Captain's fe«t. 

Returning safe from sea. 


Some rascals hurt a smaller boy 
In rough and brutal play. 
*'I>on't mind such things." an old man 
••They go, but you will stay." 


Stout words are those for all that walk 

The weary ways of men ; 
The woe, the fret we once have met 

Will not return again ; 

They vanish like the skulking mist 

The morning drives away. 
To-morrow they will be forgot. 

While we — ah, we shall stay ! 

Above the shallow clouds of time 

Our radiant souls will rise. 
And what will Im> a nettle's prick 

When we are In the skies? 

And what will be earth's longest nigbt 

In heaven's endless day? 
Forget the fears, the stings, the tears; 

They go, but you icUl ttay! 


If an auto meet an auto 

Scorching to the train. 
If an auto smash an auto. 

Will a cop complain? 
Of all the Force there'p none, of coari 

1 canna' hantlle m-ell ; 
But how I play that little game 

I dlnna' care to tell. 

I've a purse well iitncke<l wl' siller, 

I've a temiHT gay ; 
Money navev a peck o' trouble. 

Money finds a way. 
Many a chauffeur gets a *'record«** 

Nane. they nay. ha*e I ; 
And all the cops they smile on me 

As I go ■corchlBg by. 



A llttir aDeoioiacter 

Waa aet to measure off tbe wind 

That whistled thraugb tbe aky. 
As tbe wind blew hard or the wiDd blew aoft, 

Sd aw If I be turned or alow. 
And Just the Dumber of miles an hour 

Hla dial-plate would iibow. 

But tbe little anemometer 

On tbe weatber-bnreau tall 
Decided, very Innocent, 

'Iwaa he that did It all. 

80 when the wind blew a harrlcane — 
-I'm a terrible (ellow!" be cried; 

And when tbe wind was a lephyr mild — 
"I'm too tiled to blow," be siKhed. 

UnKl one melanchaly da; 

A little breeie. In tun, 
Twiated tbe anemometer 

80 that II couldn't ruD : 
And tbus It learned tbat tbe heavens wc 

On an Indei>endent plan. 
And It grew to be a modext macblna 

And ceased to be like a man. 


AU tbe birds are going to m 
And tbe bermlt rings thi 

"Co-o-ome, come to church I 
So the little seiton sInBi 

"CiMi ome, come to prayer s 
TbrouBh tbe woods tbe i 

id praises." 

From a belfry sreen snd high ; 
"Co^-ome, ,CB. we'll come and gUdlr," 
la tbe musical reply. 

Boon across tbe woodland spaces 
Otber seitons ply their bells. 

Till the forest Is a -quiver 
Deep In all its bidden dellB. 

And the wistful mortal straying 

Underneatb Ibe brooding trees. 
Captured by tbe mood of worsblp, 

oken words and r 

tual orde 



ly. the world is s 


W-ben we hear tb 

e hermit's 



^ ,j' ^ %^ 




Once a spider built a cobweb od a rainbow 

bright and gay. 
For she thought its brilliant colors would 

entice her lawful prey. 
But. alas! the sun descended, and the 

bright bow was no more. 
And the weeping, webless spider was left 

homeless as l>efore. 
**After this." I heard her mutter to herself, 

"I'll be content 
With foundations not so showy, but more 

tirm and permanent !" 


There's a lesson you may learn 
When the little children turn 
Hquarely. fairly, in their pew. 
And as squarely gase at you. 

Sweet their eyes are, sweet and pure. 
Modest also and demure, 
Happy, innocent, sincere, 
Gasing with no thought of fear. 

Should the older people thus 
Tufti about and look at us. 
Would their gate as steady be. 
Truthful, brave, and folly free? 


Who is struck when the workmen strike? 
Butchers and bakers and the like? 
The wives and the children everywhere. 
Purses empty and cupboards bare? 
Yes. these are struck when the workmen 

When the workmen strike. Just what Is 

struck ? 
The rich man's hoard and the gambler's luck? 
The stf>ok exchange and its craxy orowvf ? 
The coriHileut Imnk and the iialace proud? 
Yes, then**, when the workmen strike, are 


When the workmen strike, what is struck, 

ah. what? 
The common w(>al of the common lot? 
The avi^ragf pume, JuHt yours and mine. 
And the average home. neitht>r poor n<»r flne? 
Yes, these are iitruck when the workmen 


it's a bungling way. this striking way. 
And the world should have passed It many a 

It's a vtrike In the dark, and no one known 

Just who are struck, whether friends or foesi. 
And who stmck worst, when the workoMv 

Yet the workman, brave and strong and tme. 
When the cupboard Is bare what cnn he do? 
When the children cry and the wage la wrong. 
And the courts are closed and his hands are 

Then what, but strike, can the workman do? 

'Tis the age of mind, *tls the science age. 
And the world is beyond the flsty stage. 
The workman knows how to manage machlBM* 
And he gUdly will use a more dTlllsed menns : 
If you give him the law, with the law ko 
will strike. 


A "generous'* liquor! Ah, If generous 
liet it return, of what It steals from oa. 
At least one-tenth !^-one aoal for every tea 
In mercy let it render back again : 
One-tenth of all the homes, the land, tbo 

The i>eace. the Joy, its dose-moathed coffers 

You sneer, you generous liquor. Well yoa 

All things to get and nothing to let go. 
"Generous." forsooth ! 

"A royal bumper" ! "Royal" ? Tea, a king 
Whose r«*lgn ^eans serfdom. There's •• 

sacred thing 
This "royal" liquor falla to override. 
And whelm in fiendish lust and hateful pride. 
His regnant sceptre bends, and at the algn 
Men yield themselves the crawling slaves of 

His throne Is built of broken hearts, bis 

(fleams red with stars from heaven fallen 

"Royal," Indeed ! 

■A sparkling goblet" ! Tea, yes !— «11 ahUse 
With horrid hell's most ksggard. ghastly 

The light of happy eyes turned to despair. 
The flash of hate, the eating flame of caret. 
The glitter of a madman's awful eyea. 
The dying light that ktabs one aa It dies, — 
Hence d(M>s the "sparkling goblet" get the 

And ra«nant glan<*eii that delight men so. 
"8i»arkllng." forsooth ! 

"Strong" drink, "strong" drink! 
we call It strung 




That drags so many myriad men headlong 
Down woe's most awful path to dreadful 

That shatters happy households at a breath. 
And fastens with its hot and crooked hands 
On temple roof and spire that loftiest stands, 
While marts and studios and statesmen's 

It levels to the slime wherein it crawls. 
"Strong" drink, indeed ! 

And "rare old spirits" ! Ah, how many a 

Beseeches God that they become more rare! 
Rare — till the widow's tears less common 

Rare — till dismantled homes are fewer far ; 
Rare — till the children's sobs, the wives* 

The drunkard's dreadful anguish, grow more 

Brothers, to work ! to work with hand and 

And make these **rare old spirits'* rarer 

still ! 

God for the right ! 



Mr. Downey O'Gloom, with pardonable pride 
In his horse and his buggy, went out for a 

The road was all level, his horse it was gay. 
Great arches of greenness o'ershadowed the 

There was Joy in his heart and a light in his 

And he gave a brisk nod to the folks he flew 

And his lips were just framing themselves 

to a song, 
So merrily, cheerily bowled he along, 
When — a little dog barked at the buggy ; 

O dear! 
A terrier barked at the buggy. 

The horse did not mind It. but Downey got 

And he — thought — an expression decidedly 

bad ; 
And he whipped at the dog, but he missed 

him. of course; 
And he scowled at the sidewalks, and Jerked 

at the horse. 
While the terrier, plainly quite dogged in 

With barking obstreperous, followed behind. 
And Downey O'Gloom. In a mood far from 


Went whirling along the sedate village street. 
While the little dog barked at the buggy ; 

O dear! 
The terrier barked at the buggy. 

And I>owney no more had a song in his throat. 
For his heart was attuned to the terrier's 

And Downey no more had a light in his eye. 
For that one little cur overshadowed the sky ; 
And the road grew uneven with many a Jolt. 
And the new buggy rattled in linchpin and 

And the trees gave no shade, and the friends 

he passed by 
All flung him a bantering cast of the eye. 
For — the little dog barked at the buggy ; 

O dear! 
The terrier barked at the buggy. 

Fellow drivers that speed on life's road to 
death's doom. 

Let us see our own image in Downey O'Gloom ! 

How often we travel with laughter and song. 

Till some cross little worry comes barking 

And then, like a flash, all the sunshine is dead. 

And bare are the boughs of the trees over- 

And the road is all ruts, and the birds fly 

And the peace is all gone from the heart of 
the day. 
While the little dog barks at our buggy ; 

O dear ! 
The terrier barks at our buggy. 


Worry — a petty madness, weak and crude ; 

A treason to the universal love; 
A passion for the nethermost ; a rude. 

Sullen defiance of the God above ! 

A torturing woe that is not worth a name; 

A bitter grief that never wins a tear ; 
A misery that hides behind a shame; 

A blasphemy that calls itself a fear ! 

A passion more intense than all but hate; 

A sin uncensured in our clumsy creeds; 
A dread disease forlorn and desolate 

That sorely some benign physician needs. 

How shall we conquer thee, thou empty shape T 
With what austerest weapon on thee fall 

And pierce thy fllmy folds of horrid crape. 
And find thy life, that hast no heart at all 7 

Father of liove and Light, to Thee we turn! 
Beset by powers of gloom, we turn to Thee I 



With Bouls that faint, with souls that wealcly 
With gouls that drag their chains and 
would be free ! 

Tea, Father, we are like a frightened child 
Waked in the night and groping for a hand ; 

So lay Thy touch upon our terrors wild. 
And, In all darkness, we shall understand. 


When curious Pandora, luckless lass. 

Brought all our pains to pass. 
Releasing from that Box those wlngM foes, 

The Troubles and all Woes. 
They flew al>out on impish mischief bent. 

And everywhere they went, 
Until at last, grown homesick, they would find 

The Box for them designed ; 
And, lighting on a hollow human head. 

They made it serve instead. 
Thus, ever since, when skulls begin to throb, 

'Tis that unholy mob 
Bold-beating on our heads with silent din. 

Intent to be let In ; 
And In at last with stamping feet they come 

To make our heads their home. 
Oh. could 1 And Pandora's lock and key 

Before they come to me ! 


My all I carry with me ever3'where : 
The presence of the I^rd on land and sea. 
The love of dear ones close enfolding me, — 
My patrimony, these; and. blest. 1 iH'ar 
For pictures, eyes to which the world Is fair; 
For book, the nearest thing, whate'er it l>e; 
For gold, the mind that scorns its sover- 
eignty ; 
For ImhI of ease, a s<»ul God- freed from care. 
For work, I have th(> task that next me lies; 
For toolH, I have my hands, my tongue, my 

brain ; 
For c(»roradeH in my toll, the tret^s. the skies; 
And wide eternity is my domain ! 
I'll not excbang«> the very least of these 
For uU the wealth In all the lands and seas! 


She's a good little girl.— "Good for whatV* 

did you say? 
Why. good as a kitten to purr and to play ; 
And g<HK] as a br<M>klet to sing on its way : 
And g(K>d as the sunshine to brighten the day. 
To what shall I liken the dear little elf? 
She's as good as — as good as — as good as— 

herself ! 


(A poem happily ont of dat«.) 

The barkeeper — what fearful heap 

Contains the things that he will keep I 

He'll keep your money, all of It ; 

He'll keep your memory and wit ; 

He'll keep the beauty of your face : 

He'll keep your wages and your place ; 

He'll keep your honor and good name ; 

He'll keep the strength with which you came ; 

He'll keep your talents and your skill ; 

He'll keep your firm and steady will ; 

He'll keep your smile, your peace, your Joy ; 

He'll keep the future of your boy ; 

He'll keep the carols of your wife : 

He'll keep your spirit and your life; 

And he will bind you at the last 

To other keepers hard and fast — 

The keeper of the prison cell. 

And him that keeps the door of bell ! 


United — together in brotherly love : 
United — in aim with our Father above ; 
United — In honor unsullied and white ; 
United — with Justice, with truth, an<f with 

right : 
Unite<l — with free<lom of body and mind ; 
United — with ail of aspiring mankind ! 


While hero-fools of vaguely valiant mind 
Were struggling manfully the Pole to And, 
Right here at home I found the very i*ole 
In Miser Skinflint's crabbed, arctic soul. 
His icy heart all heavy with his pelf. 
While all his world revolved around himself. 


Memory hath feet. 

They are desire : 
(toal-ward they travel, sure and fleet. 

Nor ever tire. 

Memory hath hands. 

They are fhe will : 
Boldly they seise what she demands. 

And hold it still. 

Memory hath eyes. 

The insight they : 
True to her steady aim she fliea. 

And knows the way. 

Memory hath llpa. 

And they are love : 
Nothing from her caretaet slips— 

Below, above. 




When her little baby frets and cries. 

The tender-hearted Mrs. Rue 
Just wrings her hands, and heaves great sighs, 

**Boo-hoo-hoo-o-o !" 

And — 8h€ cries, too ! 
There they sit and cry together, 
And oh ! there's a spell of rainy weather ! 

When her little baby frets and cries, 

The tender-hearted Mrs. True 
Just laughs with her mouth, and smiles with 
her eyes, — 

"Cock-adoo-doo-o-o I" 

And — haby laughs, too ! 
Thrre they sit and crow together. 
And oh ! thero's a si>ell of sunny weather ! 


"Dear me!** wailed all the household- 
A Monday morning chorus — 

"How can we ever finish 

The work that lies before us?** 

Rut midway in the wailing 

Our groans to laughter shifted. 

For Babe was in the corner, 
His hands devoutly lifted. 

"Why, Babe! This isn't bedtime!** 
We cry when we discover. 

"I fought I'd thay my pwayers 
And det just that much over.'* 


With a scoff for the old and a shout for the 

new, — 
It is thus that the young serve God ; 
Reaching out for the bold, reaching up for 

the true. 
With an eager. "Lord, what wilt Thou have 

me to do?" 
With the shallower view and the broader 

view ; 
And the eye that sees roses but never sees 

rue : — 
It is thus that the young serve God. 

With a zeal that is more for the start than 

the close, — 
It is thus that the young serve God ; 
With courage that counts not the number of 

Looking more to the blows than the purpose 

of blows, 
I^nce equally tilting for substance and shows. 
And head that aye "knows somewhat more 

than it knows" ; — 
It is thus that the young serve God. 

But their prudence, God bless them ! will 

grow with their years. 
As the young grow old, serving God ; 
Soon enough will they seek the sad ambush of 

Their vision look deep through the well of 

their tears 
And cynicwise back of the form that appears. 
While Failure derides and Misanthropy leers, 
As the young grow old, serving God. 

Oh. young Man of Galilee, aye a young man, 

That never grew old, serving God ; — 
Not the young with their follies are under 

Thy ban, 
But the hearts that are seared, and the timid, 

whose plan 
Weakly tries to do only the things that it can ! 
Their feet Thou wilt guide, and their zeal 
Thou wilt fan. 
As the young grow old, serving God. 


I like the coal. 

Because, through ages long, 

In loneliness of subterranean shades. 
It bears in heartsome memory the song. 

The Joy and t»eauty of primeval glades. 

I like the coal. 

Because, though hard oppressed 
With crushing strata piled upon its back. 
It yields to any asking of its best, 

And warms the world that put it to the 

I like the coal. 

Because, though little prized. 
Though black — as coal, and dirty as — the 
It robes in light its body so despised, 
And glorifies its foulness Into flame. 

I like the coal. 

Because, though lied about. 

And overweighed. — half shale, as I Insist,— 
It keeps its faith in man with courage stout. 

And never, never is a Pessimist! 


Spirit of warmth and light ! 
Spirit of grace and good ! 
Queen of our land by deepest right, 
Her regal womanhood ! 

Rich is the after-world. 
Poor is the earth to-day. 
Yet, with her memory impearled, 
A wealthier world for aye ; 



Happy because we knew 
The qualntnesa of her smile. 
Through her white life, ao dauntless true. 
Freer ourselves from guile. 

Eager we write her name 
Upon the temple dome, — 
None have more nobly garnered fame,: — 
High priestess of the home ! 

Gating from happy skies 
Back to these earth-bound tents, 
We know what tribute she will prize 
Above ail monuments; 

Beside her bior we stand 
And reverently bow. 
**To God and home and every land" 
New-consecrated now ! 


••Walk in love,"— the little midget. 

On that happy Children's Day, 
Hhort of memory, long of fidget. 

Had but this wee verse to say. 
And she said it ! Shrilling highly 

All the children's hum aluive. 
Her sweet face averted shyly. 

Thus she said it : "Walk in. Lore V* 

Ah. my dainty little maiden. 

Though the roomful laughed at you. 
Yet that rendering is laden 

With a meaning wise and true. 
Teach uh. dear, to throw wide open 

Doors wh(*re waits the heavenly Dove ; 
Ever be that glad word spoken. 

Morning, evening : "Walk in, l^ve !'* 


A sturdy bulwark for a sturdy spirit. 
Sinews and thews c(>mimct<M to Inherit 
An EngliHh hi'art and English-wiMe to bear it. — 
(iludstone the Woodman. 

Serene explor(*r of the morning agi*s, 
Afo<it with lI<)ro«T. iMicing with the sages. 
Keen to rtu<l preNcnt truth In antique pages, — 
Gladstone the Bookman. 

Stronger than any king, our Faith's Defender ! 
Atheist -conqueror and qull>l>l«>-r«>nder. 
ArmoKMl In Iron words and r«*asoD's splendor, — 
(tiadstone the Tenman. 

Majestic marshaller of moving phrases 
Into such tide as seizes men and raises 
Mind. h«*art. and will up to its own high 
pla(*es. — 

GladMtoae the Spokesman. 

Uncrowned, untitled, latent lord of natiooa. 
Deep-rooted rock amid their perturtMtlona, 
Prime servant, — oh, supreme of exaltations !- 
Gladstone the Statesman. 

And last, and best, in lowliness supernal. 
Courage all confident and faith all vemaL 
In days ascending to the life eternal, — 
Gladstone the Christ's man ! 


Though Shakespeare and calm Wordsworth 

loved it well. 
Avoid the sonnet, follower of. the muse! — 
Though Milton joyed its supple grace to use. 
And Petrarch formed It in a golden bell. 
If coon-song or a limerick, — *tis well : 
Nor ballads will the editor refuse ; 
But classic fair refinements he eschews. 
Avoid the sonnet, for it will not sell ! 
Forget its ordered passion, and forget 
The stately measured cadence of the lyre. 
Assume the cap and bells, and learn to fret 
Some banjo's crudely titillating wire. 
What's art. what's beauty, when a man *s In 

Fie ! here's another sonnet for the fire ! 


(At 4 A. M. of June S, 1898. Lieutenant 
Hobson and seven men ran the collier Msn1« 
mac Into the ships' channel at Santiago de 
Cuba In the face of a flerce fire from the 
forts, exploded an Internal torpedo, and sunk 
the vessel, seeking thus to pen the IH>anUh 
fle<»t In the harbor. Almost by a miracle, all 
eight escaped, and became honored prisoners 
of war. When call was made for volunteers 
to perform this daring and hasardous feat, 
these men were selected from the many that 
offered themselves.) 

Darkness and the midnight sea. 
Blackest heart of Jeopardy ; 
Forts that flame an angry death. 
And the surer doom l>eneath : 
Kisk of life's long happiness 
And the safe world's sure success; 
Bellow from the mouth of hell, 
Heaven^>r a Spanish cell ; 
This, and more — he knew it well — 
This was llol»son*s choice. 

Yes, snd more, unstinted, more: 
Honor waiting on the shore. 
Honor even from the foe. 
And where'er the word shall go. 
And a wreath within the hand 
Of his grateful fatherland : 
lauding lliw and shining eyes. 



Men'8 hurrahs that rend the ekies. 
Yes, the fame that never dies — 
This was Hobaon's choice. 

Now DO more that ancient phrato 
Chattering down from Charles's days,- 
"Hobson's choice'* of **that or none*' ; 
He had two, and chose the one : 
Safety, danger ; deck or wave ; 
Life or death ; the sun, the grave. 
Let the phrase new meaning wear 
Now, henceforth, and everywhere ; 
Gallant choice to do and dare 
Shall be 'Uobson's choice." 


Laying aside my glasses clear. 

Kind squires to halt, myoptic eyes. 

Blundering among blurred stars, I peer 
Into the dim, dull-twinkling skies. 

Some day, 'mid those faint lights adrift. 

Wandering past all fancy far. 
My spirit shall its Joamey shift 

From half-seen star to half-seen star. 

And this daft fear fantastic starts : 

"In those blurred worlds what shall I do. 

Lacking the Arm material parts 
To hang my wonted glasses toY" 


Friend of the boys ! Though Time has many 
a crown 

For your benignant head, — among the rest 
The poet's and the novelist's renown, — 

This is the chief, the happiest and best. 

Yes, and for you the proudest ; for you know, 
When other souls by specious lures are 

The hearts of boys are candid as the anow, 
Untricked, unterrifled, unbent, unboaght. 

Who writes for boys must see the things that 
And write the things he sees with buoyant 
truth ; 
Ever his soul must know the morning star. 
The glad, good secret of eternal youth. 

"Write him as one that loves his fellow 
men," — 
What higher praise the tongue of man em- 
ploys ? 

Ah, this, with softer voice, with mellower 
pen : 

Write him as one that loves his fellow boys ! 


O diamond isle upon a diamond sea. 
Wherein* our Stevenson — and Scotland's — 

Loathing thy loveliness, and weary-eyed 
Turning from all thy softening sorcery 
As the romance-maker of the Odyssey 
Spurned Circe's coils, and day long sat beside 
The cruel beauteous waves whose further tide 
Touched home and friends and proud Penel- 
ope, — 
Full many a sister scene as vainly fair 
Holds guests as anguished with their per- 
fumed chains. 
Strong souls that sick and swooning bodies 

Exiles for health's sake from their native 

plains ; 
Ah, heavy task, when half their health is 

Back in the home-land where their heart re- 
mains ! 


As a final glow and sparkle 

Fill the year's decaying ember, 
And the wintry forces gather 

On the snowflelds of December, 
With a beating of the sleighbells 

In a more exultant jingle. 
Comes a quiver of our pulses. 

Comes the merry Christmas tingle. 

Now a gay, mysterious meaning 

Lies upon the happy faces. 
And the atmosphere of giving 

Quickens all the kindly graces. 
With the sordid and the prosy 

Sudden gleams of beauty mingle. 
And the inner haunts of mammon 

Feel the blessed Christmas tingle. 

Unexpected bits of laughter 

Bubble up from hidden comers. 
Plums of jolly cheer are waiting 

For a myriad Jack Homers. 
In the shop snd on the highway 

And around the happy ingle 
Not a shade of black morosehess. 

Everywhere the Christmas tingle. 

Soon, too soon, the season passes. 

And the fogs of living cover 
With a gray of doll existence 

Wife and husband, friend and lover. 
Let us find a merrier fashion. 

Some perpetual Kriss Kringle, 
Teaching Time's despondent pulses 

An unending Christmas tingle ! 


I lovr the pariilf 

'rbe loDR. fair lla«B of comradM, dlaclpllneil, 

WaltlDg ibt aummoiia to give ol their beat, 
their alt : 

r» lilendlng ilemurclf, 



Weary from task to task, with no time for 

I love to come and rest for a moment among 

And bathe my soul in the cloistered stillness. 
And rejoice my soul In the friendly glance of 

The loverly, quiet, reserved parade of books. 


Fie ! what a sinful waste it is to use 
Fine calf-skin or morocco — making shoes! 
Be it the daintiest foot-gear of them all. 
That Flora twinkles gayly at the ball, 
*Twere far more finely, fittingly applied 
To bind my Uazlltt, Keats, or Akenside. 

And what a shame that gold, fair gilding gold. 
As sordid, silly coin should be told ! 
For greasy greenbacks would as well suffice 
To glut the miser or to pay the price, 
Willie gold for this was evidently made — 
To letter and embellish Pope and Praed. 

And further : 'tis a sin, and nothing less. 
To 8(iuandor flax upon a woman's dress. 
Aye, though a maiden flash upon my sight 
Her snowy form with snowy linen dight. 
Swift to the mill that fabric fair should go ; 
We need fine paper for Racine and Poe ! 


I care not that some other man. 

When I am dead and gone. 
Will play my part upon the stage 

That I have trod upon ; 
Will lord It in my very house. 

Will tend mf bit of ground. 
Will do my work in Just the same 

Perpetual pleasant round. 
I'll let him use my desk, my pen,' 

And all my household nooks ; 
But I shall haunt him if he dares 

l4iy hands upon my books ! 

To think that some unheeding boor 

May soil my Aldrich fair. 
Or break my Chaucer's back, or mar 

My liazlitt debonair ! 
To think that some unhallowed thumb 

May dog's-ear all my I>amb, — 
My soul will shiver in dismay. 

No matter where I am ! 

I Poe them in their piteous plight. 
Their pages torn and frayed. 

Their binding loose, their covers bent, 
I see, and cannot aid. ^ 

I oven see them — at the sight 
My heavenly harp will fall — 

Exposed among the * 'second-hands" 

Upon a sidewalk stall. 
I see them marked a paltry dime, 

I see the careless throng 
Pause casually to tumble them. 

And sneering pass along. 

Ah me ! Ah me ! I do not mind 

That shrouds are pocketless ; 
My little gold, my bank account, 

I leave with willingness ; 
But oh, that some celestial van, 

Some spacious yan were given, 
That I might put my books therein* 

And pack them off to heaven ! 


[As the Government Is not allowed to re- 
ceive service without paying for it, hundreds 
of able men who were engaged In Important 
work during the World War accepted salaries 
of one dollar a year.] 

Now a hearty and vigorous cheer, men^ 
For the patriot doUar-a-year men I 

At a million, indeed. 

In this time of need, 
They wouldn't be costly or dear men. 

These thlrd-of-a-cent-a-day men 

Have forgotten the meaning of play, men ; 

With all of their might 

They are deep in the fight. 
At work like an army of draymen. 

They are brainy men, famous men, rich men. 
Inventors and bankers and sich men ; 

They tug and they toll 

In the sweat and the soil 
Like desperate, valorous ditchmen. 

They are leaders, the bosses, the key men* 
At work without glory or fee, men. 

Obscurely at work. 

No slacker, no shirk, 
That you and that I may be free men. 

So a hearty, unanimous cheer, men. 
For these generous, big volunteer men. 

With grace and with grit 

They are doing their bit, 
The patriot dollar-a-year men ! 


I am the poem the editor uses 

Just to fill up a page. 
'Tis in this measure men honor the Muses, 

Crowding them off of the stage. 
I must be wise, and pathetic, and witty. 

All in eight lines at the most. 
Mine's the one Pegasus brooked in a city, — 

Pegasus tied to a post ! 




Take a month of praise, and a month of 

And a month of earnest thought. 
And a month of labor free from care. 

At the irpper Market bought. 

Repeat the measure once and again. 

And over the flame of love 
Bet the savory dish until angels and men 

Its odor of grace approve. 

And while It is winning the heart of the fire. 

Toss in a morsel of mirth, 
And a cordial made of a high desire 

Grown sweet from the sky and earth. 

And stir it and stir it with vigor amain. 

Nor mind the fall of a tear, 
For out of the joy and the toil and the pain 

Will come a glorious year. 


[Read at the celebration of Dr. Francis K. 
Clark's sixtieth birthday anniversary.] 

When Nehemiah built his wall. 
And even friends would flee, 
Hanballat raisetl a threatening call. 
And said, "Come down to me." 
'*! have a task I cannot shirk,'* 
He answered with a frown. 
"I am about a mighty work. 
And I cannot come down." 

When l*aul. the many-geniused man, 

rhilosopher and sage. 
The traveller, the artisan, 

I^rd of the burning page. 
Was lured l»y goals of ralnlww hue. 

By fair Ambition's bid. 
He answertKl. "This One Thing I do," 

And that One Thing he did. 

Ho this, our Nehemiah liold. 

Our l*aul of steady flame. 
With pur|M»iie Arm as th<?lrs of old. 

Has ttne unshiftlng aim ; 
On«> aim, in whose i*oni{>elling s])here 

All iithers are impearled ; 
One goal, one tSHk. one passion dear : 

The Young Hearts of the World I 

When glittering charms of golden wealth 

Would turn hin ftiM awide. 
When crafty visions bniught by stealth 

The garlandings of pride. 
He thniNt away the tempting crown. 

The promiseH untrue. 
And answer«*d. "1 cannot come down. 

For this One Thing 1 do." 

When Ease enticed his weariness 

And bade him rest awhile; 
When Doubt, the quaking sorceress. 

Beset him with her guile ; 
When Slander, hid behind a mask. 

Attacked with venomed sting. 
He answered, "I've a glorious task. 

And I must do This Thing." 

When dear delights of lovely home. 

And scenes that fondest are. 
Forbade his wistful heart to roam 

On toilsome Journeys far. 
These pleasures he was strong to leave. 

Though all his being bled : 
"I have a purpose to achieve, 

I do One Thing," he said. 

When gray Casaandras told their fears. 

When even friends were dumb. 
When iterant tasks of thirty years 

Grew dully wearisome. 
Amid the calm, amid the storm. 

Whatever skies might be. 
"I have a duty to perform. 

One Thing I do," said he. 

And still, though sixty years have rolled 

Their devious night and day. 
By that one high resolve controlled 

He treads a steadfast way : 
And still al>ove his silvered head 

His banner never furled. 
And written on it, white and red. 
"The Young Hearts of the World." 

Ah, Francis Clark, whom we acclaim 

For this One Thing you do, 
Who holds himself to one great aim. 

Holds (flod to one aim, too ; 
Holds (iod to one, and Christ to one. 

And all the choirs that sing. 
"Well done, thou faithful one, well dune!" 

And that is their One Thing. 


O Christ, the Wonderful! we gladly s^ 
The seven wonders of the world in Thre. 

Pharos ! that flung so twld a light abroad. — 
The Light of all the world is Clirlst, our Lord. 

Vast pyramids that lift the wondering sight, 
Itow down to Christ, the Apex of all height ! 

Coloasus. framed the Rhodlan gulf to span. — 
(hir Christ has bridged the gulf from God to 

Babylon'a hanging gardens, fmltfol, gay, — 
We have a Vine that wrapa the world to-day. 



Rare Mausoleum, shrine of royal breath, — 
Christ is the King that conquered even death. 

Diana's temple ! — all that Christ adore 
Become Uis temples, peerless evermore. 

Statue of Zeus, low lying in the sod, 
Worship our Christ, the ever-living Ood ! 


Old Glory is a gallant flag. 

It speaks of days gone by 
When hero spirits did not lag. 

But sprang to do or die. 
Old Glory tells of triumphs old. 

Brave deeds on land and sea ; 
But now my service flag, behold ! 

New Glory is to me. 

Beside Old Glory, floating fair 

In red and white and blue. 
New Glory leaps upon the air 

To those dear colors true : 
Still red, the love of beating heart ; 

Still white, the pure design ; 
Still blue of truth's eternal art ; 

Still stars that loyal shine. 

Old Glory has a noble tale 

Superbly to relate : 
The thirteen States that did not fail. 

The splendid forty-eight. 
New Glory, in a simple way. 

So modest and so clear, 
Has only one short word to say. 

But oh, how proudly dear ! 

Old Glory means our mighty land. 

And now the brother earth ; 
New Glory means my hero's hand, 

My hero's dauntless worth. 
Old Glory fills the farthest marge. 

New Glory decks a wall ; 
But all Old Glory means in large 

New Glory means in small. 


Voice of English voices. 
Point of England's pen. 

Flame of England's conscience, 
Leonine of men ! 

How is greatness greatened, 
When it lifts its face 

To a constant passion, 
In a constant place ! 

Where the true man preaches. 

In a gown or smock. 
There is a cathedral. 

There the people flock. 

Where the true man preaches. 
Though the phrases flash. 

Though the worded music 
Like a fountain plash. 

With a light whose glory 
Dims all else to dross. 

Rises, sole and simple, 
Christ's imperial Cross! 


While others taught a race to thrust and 
And shaped new nations with their meas- 
Thou didst lay hold of heaven's omnipotence, 
O Cesar of the promises of God ! 

While other hands grew large to grasp and 
What slipped, and left them like an empty 
Thou wert a millionaire of heaven's gold, 
O Croesus of the promises of God ! 

While others through the mase of seen and 
Conjectures, fancies, all unsteady trod. 
Thou hadst one lore : that God would keep 
His word, 
O Solon of the promises of God ! 


The caterpillars met one day. 
And in a very solemn way 
Discussed a point of great Import 
To all the caterpillar sort. 

"Why, as it is,'* one speaker said. 
Up-stretching high a hoary head, 

"So common is this new caprice 
The wise call Metamorphosis, 
The change of safe, old-fashioned ground 
For silly flights on ways unsound. 
That we must take wise measures soon, 
Or all our race will be undone." 

Another spoke: *'I like to know 
That what one i», he's 9ettled so. 
This crawling one day, winged the next. 
What prudent worm is not perplexed? 
With all these moody changes, who 
Will know what form to fasten to?" 

So after many long debates. 

The wise assembly formulates 

Its judgment thus : "Whereas, the good 

Old ground whereon our fathers stood 

Some upstarts are inclined to change 

For loftier viewv and wider range. 

Producing dangerous schism thus* 



And coDRtantly confuniiig ur, 
Be it Kc9oh'ed, that henceforth we 
Who DOW do coveuant and agree. 
Maintain oureelves inviolate 
In KotNl ol<] caterpillar estate. 
And hold ax knavixli, outcast things 
Thom> rascal heretics with wings.** 

This sigueil they all with pens that hurned. 
And then — and then — they all adjourned 


The candled date, as all may see. 
lii found quite often up a tree. 

The tree 's a palm, you understand. 
Because he always gives the hand. 

The candy that they use to stuff him 
Is taffy (when they do not cuff him). 

And yet, alas ! how very quick '11 
All this sweetness turn to pickle ! 

How soon. wh(*n clerks the figures state. 
The cundieil date is out of date ! 


Mosquitoes thick at Daisy Spring? 
Why. ev«'ry tephyr lK>re a sting. 
And nut a turn to left or right 
But m«*ant another burning bite. 
And not a bird song C4»uld yr»u hear 
For that shrill buzzing in the ear. 

Mosquito netting white and hmI 

Half smothered every groaning bed. 

And not a window could In' tuu*n 

Without its view-d«>str<»ylng s<'n»4»n. 

Yet vain was all that wt* could do : 

Somehow, somewhrn>, th«> p«'st** Kot through. 

Hut Daisy SpringcrH, on«' fine May, 

S«>t out to ilrlvo ih<> prHiK away. 

Tiii>y do-«'d tb«' |Hinds with k«'roH«>n«*. 

Th<>y <-|i*:in«Ml tb«' htn^^ts and k<*pt them clean. 

And notliint: otatrn.-int. foul, unnound. 

Was left till b<Mir iiIm>v<' tbr ground. 

And now. bcbold ! at l>aiNy Spring 

Wi» ht«ar ni» l»uyz. w«' ffiir no sting. 

In all our bfritiHc t4»wn 

MoM]ulto iM-ttinKM havi» ronu' down. 

And iiifirlly. .ih folks nliould do, 

Wf livi« oiitdoorH tin* HUMiincr tbrougli. 

Well, jou biivi* bfnrd. and \i»u an* wis** ; 
No niMil III bMiuth tn nionill/f. 
*>%« world Is full of Htlugiug sin. 

At every crack the plague flies in. 

And clumsily the fiends we fight 

With net and screen — and still they bite. 

Oh, to the breeding foulness go. 

And kill them In the i>mbr>'o ! 

Away with temporizing screen ! 

Wash out the heart, and ke<'p It clean ! 

Whoso would do a fien<l to d<>ath. 

Slay ! slay ! before be draws a breath. 


A sudden audience strikes a blow 
On S4>me men's brainy dynamite. 

And. grandly crashing, up they go 
In clouds of rhetoric out of sight. 
And heaven be praisetl when they alight! 

On my iM^wildered brain, alas ! 

Ilowe'er imperious fall the blow. 
It strikes but on a flabby mass 

Of feeble putty ami of dough ; 

Of feeble intellectual dough. 

Forefend that impious call inane 

To more than Moses* miracle. 
That bids me pierce my stublmm brain 

For thought that will not heed the Kp«>n ; 

For eloquence that scorns the spell. 

And teach all fools, ye blessed powers. 

That thought must on still uplands fall 
And slowly wind through musing hours 

Before It leap to eyi>s of all 

A torrent oratorical ! 


A burning city's raging ire 
Assailed with storms of biting fire 
A tower fair in M'ulptunnl stone. 
That brave<l the flames, and stiMxl ahm'V 
BlackiMKMl it stooil. and scarn**! ami dn>ar. 
Through many a long r«>volvlnt: ymr. 
Until onc<' more the hearts of m«>n 
Imixdled thom th<>re ti» build again: 
When, lo ! a curious thing was found : 
The tower coursi-* ni'ar tl»«* groumi. 
FumhI by the tire, had kefit thi*lr form 
Through cracking fr<»st and lH*atlng stitrm. 
While all ih«» t<m'«»r's lofty splr«\ 
Untouch«Ml by that fierce- friendly firv. 
Had loht its graces day by day. 
And crunilibil utterly away. 

Ah. thuH. my timorous soul. r«celve 
Tho wo«>M that sadden and In^reave! 
Tbi«y s«»ar th«- 11 fi'. luit haply still 
Confirnt tb«* faith. Inun» the will. 
And fus«* till* spirit. si>ft and allflit* 
To dlaiiMiod and chrysolite ! 


BODK or llie lonla of earth. 

or watpr and of flrr, 
Bom of a daring birth. 

N«w]T iTo (be; aspire. 

Forth to tbv elomcnt 
Thai 001; Is uosuhdued. 

Boldly their way Is bpnl, 
Klrm la their Iortltndi>. 

ThFj leap ttH I 

Tbplr ,';pa ar« Ilk 

Tbelr aoul U k1 

r their apurnlng aigtat 

NfTtr a wpak delay. 

A burst of Qame on hlith, 
A fall as a meteor rails! 

Out of the shudderlDg aky 
Tntnlf the curlew calls. 

Vet from the wreckage atlll. 

Bmlllng la death's deapltp. 
Another of equal skm 

Springs for a farther flight. 

Ah. Jubilant pioDeers. 

Read what tbe future hatb. 
Beyond our hesitant fears. 

Abrad of our ploddlDg path. 

To myiitlcal regions bear 

The hanner or hope uorurled. 

And tbrougb the wllderneu air 
Break a way for tbe world 1 




Ten new committees* vigorous and fine ; 
One was too ambitious, and then there were 

Nine new committees, sealoua and elate ; 
One got offended, and then there were eight. 

Eight new committees, laboring for heaven ; 
One got to shirking, and then there were seven. 

Seven new committees, "putting in best licks" ; 
One found it tedious, and then there were six. 

Six new committees, looking all alive ; 

One went to sleep, and then there were five. 

Five new committees, keeping up their score ; 
One bec^Hne "too busy," and then there were 

Four new committers, bright as bright could 

One became careless, and then there were 


Three new committees, hunting things to do ; 
One thought It couldn't, and then there were 

Two new committees, proud of good things 

done : 
One grew "so tired," and then there was one. 

One new committee, holding on for fun ; 
Fnn got exhausted, and there was — none. 


Why, Sir Cupid, do you choose 

For your happy festival 

Just the bleakest month of all? 
Rosy June why don't you use. 

Or the dalnty-flng(*re<! May. 

Or some Jocund August day ? 

^It's beccus<> I want to show 

flow against dear five's sweet reign 
ilan«h(*«t seasons ragp in vain ; 

Ice and sleet and blinding snow 
But the blustering captives are. 
Chained to her triumphal car." 

Then, Sir Onpid. prithee tell 
Why your merry day should fall 
In the shortest month of all? 

Is your wonder-working spell 
As distinctly fugitive 
As the month in which you live? 

"Stay in shame your slanderous tongue! 
It Is I, and none but I, 
Make this month so quickly fly. 
Ix)vers' time is ever yqung ; 

And this month, were I not here. 
Were the longest of the year !" 


"This miserable subjugation of Intellect to 
the clink of well or Ill-matched syllables . . . 
until at length a feeble-minded child can 
make out a sonnet." — Dr. Bo/met tm*^Ottr the Tkm- 


Dear words, alike yet deftly different. 
Sing me the Joy of rhyming everywhere. 
Sing me the leaves the poet-tree doth bear. 
One thought through many a matching vari- 
ance sent, 
sing me the clouds by minstrel breeses blent. 
Sisters that one white robe diversely wear. 
Sing, with cleft chord attuned, the rhyming 

Of master's hand on some rich instrument. 
And hither dance, twin sisters, of a height. 
Twin miracles of mated loveliness. 
Yet in the eyes of each her own dear light. 
And on her lips a differing caress. 
Come, dancing words, this delicate, fair alght 
Be ahrewd In rhymed divergence to express. 


A toller bent a patient back 

Above a yawning pit. 
And time, and strength, and love, and wealth. 

He shovelled Into it. 
And still, though many years he toiled. 

And bitterly he cursed. 
The pit remained a hollow hole. 

As empty as at first. 

A second workman bent his back 

Above a second pit. 
And time, and strength, and love, and wealth. 

He shovelled into It. 
And lo ! before the sun was set. 

The pit was brimming o'er 
With ruddy gold and Jewels rare, 

A vast, exhaustlesa store ! 

Oh ! toller In the field of life, 

TIs not the work you do. 
Bat where yon do It, and for what. 

Means bane or bliss for you. 
Alike Into a yawning pit. 

M^y Ko your strength, your pelf; 
But one pit Is the church of God, 

The other la— jour asLr. 




The other men may stand in line 

Where each his neighbor hunches. 
On sandwiches and pies to dine — 

Aha ! the vicious crunches ! — 
Or feed in caf6s superfine 

Off tenderloins and punches ; 
A tenderer repast is mine. 

For I've Miranda's lunches. 

They gobble down their gross affairs. 

Their "boiled New England dinners,'* 
Or their more delicate Eclairs. 

And wine — if they are sinners. 
A flco for Sir Fatty's airs 

As French menus he munches ! 
I have a feast worth all of theirs, 

For I've Miranda's lunches. 

Upon the napkin, snowy white. 

There often lies a pansy ; 
Beneath, the luncheon, cooked just right. 

Precisely to my fancy : 
Croquettes, nut sandwich, **baby pies.** 

Young radish (little bunches), 
Marshmallows tucked in to surprise, 

M — m, m — m ! Miranda's lunches ! 

A woman's thoughtful tenderness. 

Some way, about it lingers; 
In touching It I seem to press 

Miranda's dainty fingers. 
What matter business fret and strife, 

And care that grinds and crunches. 
When one has such a blessed wife, 

Miranda. — and her lunches? 


I used to have a suit of clothes 
All rags and paint and dirt; 

What luxury it was to wear 
A suit I couldn't hurt ! 

Secure within that wreck of cloth 
I grovelled on the ground ; 

In garret, stable, garden, yard. 
Primeval bliss I found. 

It waxed familiar with the woods. 
The thickets, marshes, brooks ; 

It carried rents and burrs and mud 
From all the forest nooks. 

I got down close to Mother E«arth, 

My spirit seemed to root 
And s|.*read its filaments and grow 

Within that mouldy suit. 

But ah. my wife, in vandal mood. 
One hapless cleaning day, 

In valiant fit of tidiness. 
Gave my old suit away I 

And now I weed the garden walks 

At length of formal hoe, 
And keep within the proper paths 

When to the woods I go. 

I've lost the sense of sweet, warm dirt. 
The kinship with the ground ; 

I must be careful of my clothes 
Whene'er I tinker 'round. 

I do not own a single suit 
But claims my constant care. 

No shred of blessed cloth that I 
Obliviously wear. 

Before my oldest suit is fit 

For either work or fun. 
A solemn year — at least a year — 

Must circumspectly run. 

O woman, woman ! prim and neat, 

The flower of humankind, 
I'd not abate your daintiness 

And purity of mind ; 

But oh, with heavenly perfectness 

Your graces will be girt. 
If you will let a happy man 

Just wallow in the dirt ! 


John Mason, tinker of watches. 

Became a soldier one day. 
And carried his instruments with him. 

As he sturdily marched away. 

**For surely," he chuckled in secret, 
**My tools will be useful still. 
And bring me in many a shilling. 
When the army discovers my skill." 

It happened the way he expected. 

And soon he had all he could do 
Repairing the renegade watches 

Of privates and officers too. 

He forgot that he was a soldier. 

And when ordered against the foe. 
He said, *'I*ve a dozen watches 

To mend, sir, and how can I go?*' 

Ah, thus we also are busy 

With tasks that we greedily take. 
And not for the good of the army. 

And not for the Kingdom's sake. 

And then when the foe is attacking. 
And our Captain seeks soldiers to send 

We answer : "It's out of the question ! 
I*ve a dosen watches to mend !" 




To write a good letter, take a handful of grit. 
A plenty of time and a little of wit ; 
Take patience to "set" it, and stir It all up 
With the ladle of energy. Then fill a cup 
With kind thoughts and helpful thoughts. 

merry thoughts too, 
With bright words, and wise words, and 

words strong and true. 
Mix all these together, and then add for spice 
Some good news, some funny news, all news 

that's nice. 
Then seal with a love kiss and stamp it 

with care ; 
Direct to your friend's heart, and presto ! 

'tis there. 



Bessie, Josie, seems to me 
Two small girls I chanced to se« 
Nid-nld-nodding in their pew. 
Oh, I hope it wasn't you ! 

The OirU, 

Well, but, uncle, don't you know, 
Saturday we had to go 
On that picnic? Had to play. 
Oh, so hard ! the livelong day. 


ru forgive you, Jo and Besa, 
For I really must confess — 
Keep it secret, children, do! 
I was rather sleepy, too ! 

The OirlM. 

Uncle, did you have to play. 
Oh, so hard ! all Saturday? 


No. alas ! my play I shirked. 

I Just worked, and worke<|. and worked. 

I^te last night I went to bed. 

And got up— a sleepy head ! 

The QirlB. 

Well. then, uncle, I don*t see 
But you're juMt as bad as we ! 


Just as wicked. I'll admit. 

Aren't we all aHhamt^l of it? 

I>rowsy h<>ad and Kh^epy face 

There in Christ's own dw«*11ing-place ! 

Come, my lassies, what d'ye say? 

I^t's reform nrxt Satunlay ! 

You to do a little lem* 

Of your playing. Jo and Bess; 

1 to whe«*<ll«* from the store 

Time to play a little more. 

Then I'm sure that we'll succeed 
And keep awake. 

The OirU. 

Well, ire're agreed ! 


Why must lips the wild bees buzz to, — 
Why must such sweet lips say "Was you**? 
Why must wits that write rich sonnets 
Rest beneath such dreadful bonnets? 

Why from maidens dear and dainty 
Must we shrink at hearing "Hain't he" ? 
Why, when hands "make home a heaven,** 
Must their finger-tips be ebon? 

Why Is sweetness just where sour Is, 
Ignorance among the houris. 
Ugliness where wisdom's flower la? 
Faith, the riddle past my power is I 


Over the fields In the sunny weather. 
Wading deep In the clover high. 

Bounding and swinging along together. 
Out Into Summerland, Carlo and I. 

Generous people live up above us; 

They are pouring gold from the gold-blue 
Softly, softly, good folk, if you love us ! 

We'll be buried in gold dust. Carlo and I ! 

Slow move the butterflies, laden with plunder ; 

They are storing gold in that brooklet nigh. 
How it shines as the fishes carry it under ! 

But we are no misera. Carlo and I. 

An army of grasshoppers guarding the treas- 
Fly at our throats with a shrill war cry. 
We'll invade their dominion at our good 
For we are the biggest. Carlo and I. 

The great nsS cloverheads steeped In the 

Sleepily nod as we two pass by. 
A man se«ms a quite Insignificant comer. 

But still we're endured here. Carlo and I. 

Over the field to this fence-line tangled, — 
Half-hidden bunrhen of berries I spy, — 

Out of the glittering meadow bespangled. 
Into the woodland. Carlo and I. 

A still, cool sea of leaves all around na. 
Above, the green waves In the sunshine lie. 

And sunbeams filtering through have foiuid at, 
Down on the sea-floor. Carlo and I. 



Whir ! — 'tli a squirrel, that stays no meeting. 

Fie on you, Carlo, you wild dog, fie! 
They'll turn us out for uncivil greeting; 

We're monsters, anyway, you and I ! 

How is it, Carlo? Let's know, you sinner! 

How much of the summer can reach your 
Is it all a warmth and a golden shimmer. 

Or are you nearer it all than I ? 

Who liTes the most in this summer weather, 
Two feet little or six feet high ? 

Well, we'll take it share and share together. 
On through the woodland. Carlo and I. 



In the Mazes of Christian Science. 

Since God is Good and God is All, 
And All is God and All is Good, 

It follows, then, whate'er befall 
Must fall to my Beatitude. 

Since God in All is God Entire, 

And I'm in All and All in Me, 
It follows that I may aspire 

To be considered Deity. 

Since God is I and I am God. 

And God Is Power and Power is I, 
Methinks it would be rather odd 

If any Force could Me defy. 

There is no matter, say the Wise ; 

In man and nature Spirit reigna. 
I only think that I have eyes ; 

I only think that I have brains. 

There is no sin. It lingers in 

The Concepts of untutored thought; 

And therefore to believe in sin 
Is deadly sin, as I am taught. 

There is no pain, and I am glad ; 

For God is All, and Good, and so 
No pain couM be, since pain is Bad,— 

Yes, very bad ! I ought to know ! 

Belief in Pain is Very Wrong. 

Who thought of it, I wonder, first? 
And did it take him very long 

To furbish up the Myth accurst? 

[In the mid8t of her philoMophiaing the 
Christian Scientiit is $uddenly seited by a 
severe Imaginartf Toothache.} 

Ouch ! — Fie ! I mean. How weak I am. 
Thus to debase my soTereign Me 

Beneath an incorporeal qualm. 
An out-of-date nonentity ! 

{Another twist of the illusory screws.} 

Oh, my ! My Tooth ! Ouch ! — U-u-m ! I 
Alas, alas, my feeble faith ! 

{Speaking rapidly, as an exorcism.} 

No— tooth — no — ache — no — felt — no — seen. 
All — God — Good — Mrs. — Eddy — saith ! 

[The Illogical Unreality gets in some more 
oj its fine work.} 

Ouch ! — Oh, those Drops I used to use 
Before I learned the Truth of Things ! 

But no ! the Higher Way I'll choose. 

Rise, Soul, on Faith's triumphant wings! 

[Further Imaginary Qualms, attended bg 
rapid cogitation.] 

Behold, how flexible is Truth : 

I'll stuff some paregoric in : 
It can't do harm, as there's no Tooth ; 

It can't be wrong, as there's no Sin ! 


Have you seen those fairy people 
That, before you're half asleep, will 
Steal the stuffing from your pillow. 
And the pillow-case will fill so 
Very fast and softly that it 
Never wakes you while they're at it? 
Yet, before the night is over, 
You're in misery, or clover ; 
For the stuffing they put in it 's 
Made of days and hours and minutes ! 

If your day was kind and gentle. 
And if all your business went well. 
If the hours were smooth and sunny. 
Swift as bees and sweet as honey. 
All this pleasant stuffing will go 
To the making of your pillow 
Smooth and sweet, till your repose is 
Soft as dew on sleeping roses. 

But if all your day was horrid. 
Forehead furrowed, temper torrid. 
If the hours were harsh and snappy. 
All disjointed and unhappy. 
Then this awkward stuffing will go 
To the making of your pillow 
Hard and prickly and annoying, 
Angular and sleep-destroying ! 

Ah, ye kindly pillow fairies. 
Well I know your anxious care is 
Not to fret us, not to tease us. 
But to soothe us and to please us. 
When I furnish for my pillow 
Hours so ugly, days so ill, though 
All my slumber hobbles lamely, 
I will be the last to blame ye ! 




[At the time of the Spanish -American War.] 

**Smitten?" said Christ; "then turn the other 
They took your coat? then yield them up 
your cloak." 
*'8hame !** men reply ; "base policy and weak ! 
Of men and not of nations did He speak. 
Seizure for thieveries and stroke for 
stroke !" 
"Ah." answers Christ, "when you yourselves 
are free, 
When you have broken your own pas- 
sion's chain, 
Then can you break another's slavery. 
Freedom for Cuba ! Lot the leasrues of sea 
Sweep the bold challenge to the shores of 

Spain ; 
But let no vengeful rancor mar and stain 
The pure white armor of your chivalry !" 


[Read at the laying of the corner-stone of 
the Chriatian Endeavor Headquarters Build- 
ing. Boston. July 18. 1917.] 

Lift the building fair and strong. 
Sink its pillarM firm and sure. 

Crown its cornices with song. 
Framo its |>ortaIs to endure. 

What shall be the corner-stone? 

Jesus Christ and He alone. 

Prophets and apostles all. 

Workers faithful, workers true. 
They have wrought upon the wall, 

HulldlDg better than they knew. 
They are not the corner-stone : 
It is JesuM Christ alone. 

Y*>s, and he whose flaming soul 
Planned it all with loving skill. 

He who labored on the whole. 

And who leads the workers still,— 

H(> is not the corner-stone: 

It is JesuM Christ alone. 

Jesus Christ, whose will august 
Is our life and truth and way; 

Jesus (*hrlst. in whom we trust 
For the power to ol>ey. — 

Jesus Christ, and He alone. 

In the liuilding's corner-stoue. 

JesUH Christ. whoHe Iniundless loTe 
Kinds the yiMith of I'vcry land. 

With a tl«* all Htrlf«* alxive. 
Into oni* unit«Hl liand. 

Him with hrothrr hearts we own 

Our unbrokrn f(»rner stone. 

Jesus Christ, the shepherd tme 
Of the sheep of many folds. 

Who in one benignant view 

All His differing churches holds. 

Him with comrade hearts we own 

Our unsevered corner-stone. 

Jesus Christ, who bids us go 
Or unresting stay behind. 

Till the fleld or face the foe 

With the same courageous mind* 

As Endeavor's guide we own 

Christ, the four-aqaare comer-stone. 

Framed In Jesus, fltly framed 
May the noble building rise. 

Temple of the Lord acclaimed. 
Of the earth and of the skies. 

All its fair proportions grown 

Out of Christ, its comer-stone. 


Fashion plates are dainty dishes 

Whence the ladles eat. 
What's upon 'em? Eggs and fishes? 

Solid bread and meat? 
No ! the plates are heaped with folly. 

Indigestion's ills. 
Empty trifles of a dolly. 

Yea— and bills! 


"If I were Street Commissioner," said Jlmmj 

Bright to me, 
"I'd see that streets and avenues were named 

more flttingly. 
For instance, there is High Street, a name 

that should apply 
Where all the lordly salesmen are more 

than six feet high. 
And Congress Street should be the place 

where statesmen rendeavous. 
While nothing old should be allowed upon 

a street called New. 
The worthy name of Washington should 

nobly advertise 
A street of honest tradesmen where no one 

ever lies. 
I'd stay away from Cross Street, or. If I 

mutt go there. 
I'd carry so much patience that they'd re- 
name It 'Fair.' 
The widest street I'd call Broadway, and 

add a law thereto. 
That no one ever should create a broader 

Fine dames with satin garments and man- 
ners quite ornate 



Should always hold receptions upon the 

street called State. 
The auctioneers and pawnbrokers Exchange 

Street ought to hold. 
And Water Street should be the place where 

stocks are bought and sold. 
The names of streets and facts of streets 

ought better to agree. 
They would, if / could name the streets/' 

said Jimmy Bright to me. 


[Psalm 46.] 

God is our refuge and strength. 

Quick help in this arduous day ; 
Fear we not then, though at length 

The vast world vanish away ; 
Though mountains fall into the main. 

And the sea by the tempest is swayed. 
Though the mountains tremble again. 

We will trust and not be afraid. 

For there is a river we know 

Making glad the city of God ; 
Peaceful and holy its flow 

Beneath God's governing rod. 
Let the nations rage as they will. 

Let the kingdoms totter and fall; 
**Be Btlll !" saith Jehovah. ««Be still !" 

And quiet flows over them all. 

O come, see the works of the Lord : 

He breaketh the spear and the bow. 
He burneth the war-car abhorred. 

He endeth war's terrible woe. 
Where murderous monsters have trod, 

Salth Jehovah who holds them in ken 
**Be still, and know I am God, 

And I will be ruler of men !" 


My heart lies open to Thy sun 

As roses to the day ; 
Thy flooding graces overrun 

Along the shining way. 
I yiold my weary life to Thee 

With paRsive lowliness, 
As empty channels to the sea 

Where eager surges press. 
As waiting wires are strangely filled 

By swift electric force ; 
As wintry, barren fields are thrilled 

From life's triumphant source ; 
As air. and light, and heat rush in 

Where doors are open wide, 
O Saviour, to my soul of sin 

Come, enter, and abide I 

And now with strengthening mercy fed, 

Thou creative Christ ! 

Not all Thy meat nor all Thy bread 

Has happily suiflced. 
Transported by Thy graciousness. 

That Thou wilf dwell in me. 
My wakened powers boldly press 

Henceforth to dwell in Thee ! 
For Thou art more than I can know 

Within my narrow bound. 
And I to Thy far heights would go. 

Thy deepest depths would sound. 
With kindling eye and fervent heart 

1 leave my little home. 

In all Thy deeds to have a part. 

On all Thy ways to roam. 
Out (m the largeness of Thy mind 

My daring thoughts expand ; 
In Thy wide reaches unconfined 

I compass sea and land. 
I do not faint, I do not fear, 

On tireless wings I glide. 
And height is home, and far is near, 

When I with Thee abide ! 


I think that still, as Easter mom dawns nigh, 
Damascus Gate, and all the wall thereby. 
Must breathe a trembling and expectant sigh. 

I think the garden places and the street 
Passed by the Saviour's resurrection feet 
Still quiver at the memory high and sweet. 

I think the very pebbles glittering bare. 
And all the flowers in the garden fair. 
Are thrilled as if the Saviour still were there. 

And who will say He does not there return. 
Since in our own glad hearts that throb and 

His radiant Easter presence we discern? 


A nation struggling for birth, 

Hail, young Ruatiat 
Newest of all upon earth. 

Welcome, Ru99ia! 
Time's invincible spawn. 
Out of the darkness drawn 
Into the light of the dawn. 
Hail, young RuB9iat 

Gasping with difficult breath, 
Cry, young Russia! 

Hung with fragments of death. 
Shake free, Russia! 

Out of the womb of the past, 

Russia, alive at last ! 

Hold to your life, hold fast ! 
Long live Russia! 


^" r'" iC ' "^ J! 


ttikiml^tS^mS^^ - --^Sm 




^^^i^^^SSop&t- ^ 






Tbui wnda aborv (be oiiuwl 

Drj lad larp aad wl(ber*d, 

let la every Une 
Dellcaleljr IraclBB 

Fnoclm drat and Due ! 

I nil arp mmfiirtril. 

My muntty In Ihr rilrcit Uad 

MuTf iHVUtKul (u are. 

To me IDjr cuuntr^'n tioty ihtDri 

Atwvp nil Libir raya. 
TlluUBb Ntl till' IHH'la trim Ihelr llnr 

A (ir aupcrlor dowi 

.itlH-r lUnim ai 

And thui mj hurohli' hnme U fair. 

With vi-allb b<>Tun>I (hr im-al, 
B^auiw my denreat oDea arr (ti«re. 

And love 'a (be rpal eilai*. 

th» patriol'a paradoi 


tbal ralM (be vaa( VDrld->ta(±ai, 

le whlcb be Uvea 1 




Thank God His eyes are everywhere. 

That no far hiding-place 
But His keen vision waits me there, 

And my disgrace. 

For where God's eyes are, He goes too. 

His mind that understands. 
His mouth, the home of all things true. 

His tender hands. 

1 cannot flee His Judging eyes. 

And so I cannot miss 
His brooding breast. His guidance wise. 

The Father's kiss. 


Teach me to number my days ! 

Lead me to count them aright. 
In the heavenly reckoning ways. 

As they stand in the angels' keen sight. 

I number them — year upon year; 

They number them — act upon act. 
I figure by calendars drear ; 

They figure by motive and fact. 

1 am old as the decades go by, 

I am young in wisdom and grace ; 

Time's heralds remorselessly fly. 
My soul has a cowardly pace. 

I would know the arithmetic law 

That reckons the worth of a thought, 

And shows how the ages draw 

On the work a moment has wrought. 

Oh, tfnch me to number my days. 
As the clerks record them above. 

By purpose and kindness and praise. 
And courage and worship and love ! 


Rise from thoughts of shame and sin. 
From passions flerce that burn within ; 
Rise ! a better life begin. 

All free from hate and scorning. 
Rise ! from weakness into might ; 
Rise ! from wrong to Joyous right ; 
Rise ! from darkness to the light 

Of Easter in the morning. 

Rise, for royal heralds call. 
Angel songs that soar and fall, 
Golden glories over all. 

Earth and skies adorning. 
Rise, for inner voices plead : 
Rise from lower thought and deed,* 
Follow where the angels lead 

On Easter in the morning. 

Rise ! for soon you may not rise ; 
Soul unheeding dwarfs and dies ; 
Not for aye may one be wise : 

For To-day the warning ! 
Lo ! the range of endless years. 
Other lives and other spheres, 
Your eternity appears 

At Easter in the morning. 


*A happy new year" It will be — i) It's new: 
Hew visions of all that is noble and true. 
New powers for service, new knowledge of 

New zeal for the ways that the heroes have 

New comforts, new courage, new graces, new 

New peace where the evil assails or annoys. 
New friendship, new helpers, new faith and 

new love. 
New treasures on earth and new treasures 

New wisdom, new glory, new health, and 

now cheer, 
Nothing old, all things new, in the happy 

new year ! 


His soul is like a shell, an empty shell. 
Within whose listening hollows evermore 

Home-hungry dreams of distant oceans dwell. 
The memories and murmurs of the shore. 


"The dagger is keen. 

And life is a pageant of woe 
Seen and unseen. 

So why sit out the show?" 

But yet I know 

Somewhere in the gloomy scene 
Love is aglow : 

I must see what love may mean. 


The beautiful gates of Zion, 
The portals of love and delight. 

They call me, they beckon me to them. 
But shut are they day and night 

Closed and silent and solemn, 

Shut, and no porter near ; 
Still by their beauty they call me, 

And I cannot choose but hear. 



I cannot choose but approach them, 
Alone and wistful and slow. 

With no one to bid me welcome 
And show me the way to go. 

For no one can choose them for me. 
And no one but I can knock. 

And no one can handle for me 
The key in the golden lock. 

But lo ! at the gentlest pressure. 

The least faint tap at the gate, 
Bright in the glow of morning 

Or at midnight drearily late. 

At the merest, timldest trial 
The gates are flung open wide. 

And oh ! the glory of welcome 
One tlnds on the other side ! 


I am an unexploded shell. 

Buried deep In a farmer's field. 
Part of the harvesting of hell 

That war's unholy furrows yield. 
1 am placid and peaceful now. 

Harmless now as a tmby'8 breath ; 
Struck some day by the farmer's plough, 

I shall thunder an awful death. 

Thousands of other shells like me. 

Sure to burst into woe some day. 
Lie in the fields of futurity. 

Lie in wait in the pi^iple's way. 
Shells of poverty, shells of hate. 

And shells of misery murdering. 
Struck l)y the ploughshare soon or late— 

Ah, liut war is a cursed thing ! 


[In the mldnt of thf> ahollinir of the tug 
Perth Amb<)y with four bnrKes off Orleans. 
Cap** Cod. Jack AInalelKh. el*>ven-year-old son 
of (^aptaln AiiiKletKh >>( the I^anaford. climbed 
up an<l cut down thi> I'nlted Stat«*a rlair. which 
he waved di'ttiintly ai the G«*rnianii on th»* 
■ubmarlne. and th*>n carried the coKua ofT 
proudly u« he waa rowed uahore. ] 

Only A ^»oy. but never yon mind ! 
When are the lM)yi« found IfiKKing Ix^hind? 
Coward!* nn»l butcherH. lire qh you will ; 
Here in n Hpirlt you cannot kill. 

Keep tb«' flag waving. .lack ! 
It'f« well worth MivinK. .lack ' 
Scorn nil their ravinir. .lack ! 
(mmI blesM our UiyN ! 

Statesmen and sages, think it all out : 
Waverers, traitors, brandish the doobt : 
Here is a heart without an alloy ! 
Gallant is truth as seen by a boy. 

Jack is the breed America bears ; 
Shells and torpedoes — little he carea. 
Give him a gun and how he will flght 
Fearless and stem for God and the right ! 

Keep the flag waving. Jack ! 
It's well worth saving. Jack ! 
Scorn all their raving. Jack ! 
God bless our boys ! 


The air was choking bitter where I lay. 

And out of it I fell to instant peace. 

Then woke to racking pain that would not 

But on from weary day to weary day 
Tortured me slowly till I could but pray 
For opiates' dull hasard of release : 
Then back to blessed health's delayed Increase 
I struggled through a drear and desperate 

Not thus, O Doctor Death, the waking fair 
From your sharp ether ! — young and bUthe 

and strong. 
I^eaping alert In new and living air. 
Each motion ecstasy, each breath a song. 
Forgotten all my load of heavy care. — 
O Doctor D<>ath I how we have done you 

wrong ! 


A fragment of the Saviour's crown of thorns 

I carry, buried deep within my brain : 
At noons and nights and dull, forebodiog 

It beats, the heart of pain. 

And ever, in my agonies of prayer, 

(razing on Calvary I chide my soul : 
"He still ! the mereat fracnient thou dost bear. 
And He endun^l the wh<ile !" 

As crenturea crude. ungrac«Hl with any thought. 

l^iHt in the ocean"»* U'nat conaldereil awlrl. 
Around Home featering grain of sand hav« 

That niirncle, a pearl. 

So I will preaa my life-blmxra pati«*nt flow 

Agalnat my tborn. and Keal the layera down 
Till all ItM Kurfacea with splendor gb*^. 
A ruby, for a crowu : 



THE R. F. D. 

Of all the works of Uncle Sam, 

Beneficent and wise — • 
The mighty irrigation dam, 

The conquest of the skies, 
The money coined sound and true, 

The seeds he scatters free — 
There's none that holds a candle to 
The R. F. D. ! 

The R. F. D. with lengthened arms, 

Extends its kindly sway 
To little, isolated farms 

From cities far away. 
Thrcugh country lanes it reaches out, 

Beyond the upland lea ; 
And ah, its travel-feet are stout — 
The R. F. D. ! 

The blessed little box of tin 

Beside the winding road. 
What treasures may be stored therein 

From out the postman's load ; 
The barefoot children caper Jown 

And crowd about to see. 
Ah. better than the joys of town — 
The R. F. D. ! 

The long and lonely country days 

Are lightened by the mail. 
And cheery hopes and better ways 

Spring in the postman's trail. 
And farm and city, understood. 

More happily agree. 
God bless the bond of brotherhood. 
The R. F. D. ! 


The year is good that paces quietly 
In Hteady courses to its myriad goals; 
For earth's hot heart outrushes to the sun, 
Eager to give herself in feaf and flower. 
And over-ardent for her lover's arms. 
A hint of welcome, and her veins athriU 
Blossom with ready loveliness too soon, 
Tuught sadly, as her human sisters are, 
By answering blight of cold indifference. 
By March's rigors and an April frost, 
That love, the queen, must not forget herself, 
Nor ever leave her sceptre and her throne. 

So watch the wise repressions of the trees. 
The chastening ice that holds them prudently. 
The granite ground that seals uncounted seeds 
From their undoing, and rejoice to note 
The fastnesses and caution of the cold. 
Rejoice ! for thus, my soul, in icy ways, 
In frigid stern denials manifold. 
Thy spring is cast, thy blossoming of love, 
Thy t>ourgeoning of knowledge and of life. 

Steady, my soul ! and trust the circling Sun. 
Steady, my soul ! and know that love is sure. 
And truth, and life. Against the icy walls 
Press boldly and confidingly. Some day. 
In rush and swirl of glad enfranchisement. 
All barriers will break and melt and fiow. 
And love and truth and beauty will be thine. 
The heart of life laid open to the Sun. 


Beauty hath a silken skin. 
Creamy white to travel in ; 
Sparkle, dimple, winning grace. 
What surpasseth Beauty's face? 

This surpasseth : eyes to see 
What the charms of Beauty be ; 
This surpasseth : eager mind 
Beauty's soul to seek and find. 

Beauty with a snowy hand 
Hath the power to command, 
Turneth armies left or right : 
What surpasseth Beauty's might? 

This surpasseth : Love alone 
Matches might with Beauty's own ; 
Queenly seated far above. 
Beauty cannot conquer Love. 


[With Apologeos to the Man Who Wrote a 
Nuther Appeel Some Yeers Ago.] 

O Sextant of the Meetin House, we no 
That you air bizzy, verry bizzy, all ways. 
For thare air seets to dust (tho thay aimt 

all ways dusted), 
And thare air carpets to sweep, and lamps to 

fill with Standard Oil, 
And clutter to cleer up, lesson papers and 

evergreen wreaths and such. 
And the bell to ring and the fire to make. 
And the Meetin House to air for the folks that 

want it aird and to shut up tite for the 

folks that want it shut up tite. 
And tue yard to rake in Summer and paths to 

shuvvel in Winter, 
And kush^ns to beet and him books to put 

back whare thay belong. 
And more things to do than enny won nos. 
O Sextant, we reelize that you air verry bizzy. 

And we dont want to Impose on you atall. 
And we hope you will take it kindly for we 

reelize your Importans, 
But we hav jest won rekwest to make. 



And that U, O Sextant of the Meetin House, 

that wen 
The aeryiB iz over Sunday evenings. 
Or Friday evenings after prayer meetings, 
Or enny other time for that matter. 
And folks kinder want to hang around and 

say howdldo and talk. 
And chat a wile and mebbe gossip a little 

And hav a word with the minister and say 

how thay llkd the cermun. 
And ask wen iz the nex soshul and Iz Deecun 

Brown enny better of hiz hart complaynt, 
And if Emmy haz her Sunday skool lessuns 

enny better. 
And how the Methodis like thare new min- 
And iz sleeves worn full at the elbo or mebbe 

thay dont say enny thing about sleeves. 
And wen Filander Armstrong will cum back 

from hiz hunny moon to Niagary Falls, 
And whether the new carpet on the Meetin 

House shood be ingrane or tapestry bms* 

And if thayd ever seen such a koid spel of 

wethur before. 
That you let them. 

But az it iz, O Sextant, you wate around. 
And look angshus and kinder mad in the ize. 
And first you turn out one lite and then a 

And shut the wlndos with a bang az if you 

wisbt us fertbur. 
And th«^n put out a nuther lite and look toerd 

the dure. 
And tho you dont say a word for you air verry 

Tou shoo us out before we air haf reddy to go. 

But, O Sextant, do you reelize 

That sum of us havvunt soen wun a nuther 

for neerly a rounth. 
And utherM (the gurls and thare fellurs) for 

neerly a week or mebbe too daze. 
And we bav lots of things to say. 
BeaideN, how Iz the l>lzneHM of the church to 

get did. I put It to you. Sextant, 
Without talk and plenty of It? 
And Iz/.unt the Meetin Iloum* the place to do 

the blzneHH of the cbureh of korne It iz. 
And az for the gurls and bovs thay mite go out 

on the KtnH^t and trapm* around and talk. 
But wen thay Htay in the Mei^tln Jlouse and 

chat a wM«> It Is a gradeel l>etter. 
For we want the Meetin Hulim* to be a S(>kund 

home <»f the church pecpul. 
A warm and frt'udly and family ur place. 
A sittln room az well az a tempul. 
And how iz that to Ik* braut about. I want to 

If we dont stay and talk a wile after senrls? 

And so O Sextant tho we no that you air blssy 

Verry bizzy and we woodunt make your work 
enny harder 

Or hurt your feelings enny. 

Yet we venchure to ask this rekwest verry re- 
speck fully 

For you air the Dorekeepur of the House of 
the Lord, 

Only dont shut the dores so soon. 


The Great Employer pays not by the day. 
Or by the piece, but only by the will. — 
The loving purpose longing to fulfil. 
The glad response that hastens to obey ; 
And when the Great Employer comes to pay. 
He bids the worker take all that he will. 
The heavenly gold of joy, and larger skill. 
And sweet content, and songs upon the way. 

When will the stupid cruelties of man 

Learn God's high art of wages? pay desire? 

Pay faithfulness that does the best it can? 

Pay eager loyalties that never tire? 

Adopt the one superbly prudent plan. 

And throw their brutal bargainings in the tire? 

[The Infidel Speaks.] 

I am a bird in a shell. 

Busy by night and by day 
In decking and fashioning well 

The spherical home where I stay. 

With the warm red blood of my heart 
I paint tbe enveloping white 

In forms of luxuriant art. 

In symbols of grace and delight. 

This is the world and the all. 

This that enwrapti me around. 
This warm, nyni metrical l>all 

Without beginning or Iniund. 

Strange are the voices that come 
My peaceful cont«>ntment to mar: 

For the spaces l»eyond It are dumb. 
If spaces beyond it there are. 

Strange are the forces that ntlr 
This orbic mansion and m**. 

For we are all things that ever were. 
And all that ever can lie. 

And so I do wisely and well. 

Adorning by night and by day 
This perfect and permanent shell. — 

My dwelling forever and aye. 


Comes ibe breaking ol 

> time at cb««r 
[a tbc winter of tbe rear. 
But Its prewnti olleti wear 
Quite a mercenary air. 

Patriotic baanera dj 

Often qualDt TbankiglTlag llDdi 
Discontented, anxious minds, — 
Leia a (estlTal ol pralw 
Tbaa I he greediest of dara. 

Ab, bat Eaater, pnrelj bom 
Of the Illy snd the thorn. 
Wltb no toncb of base alloy. 
Yon are Joy and only Joy 1 


Whni tbe frost la la Ibe groaDd. wltb Us sharp silver pick. 

It Is digging and prospecting all srouDd : 
Tbere are mllllODi of brisk workers, ever eager, ever quick. 

Ever lolling wbea ILe frost la In the ground. 

How they gndermlne the pebbles, bow ihey break Ibe hardest c 

And explode their dynamite wlthoul a aound ! 
How Ibey pulverise the palb where a Ibousand feet have trod : 

Oh. wbst mining when Ibe frost Is In tbe ground '. 

nitude abound. 

t was lu tbe ground. 




He can memorize long orations. 
And regards the work as play ; 

His masterful dissertations 

The clearest of thought convey. 

His speeches are never the weaker 

For lack of a suitable word ; 
In fine, he*s the readiest speaker 

You probably ever have heard. 

He never was known to stutter, 
His voice Is vibrant and strong ; 

Yet three words he never can utter. 

Those three little words, "/ ica« icrong.** 


(Read at a gathering of the Boston editors 
of religious papers.] 

My neighbor Brown, of Grindertown, 

Is an editor as I am. 
Like mine his work, which he dare not shirk. 

Is a dozen hours per diem. 
But we are as far as the earth and a star. 

And wo live In different cllme«. 
For he and his folks run The Daily Hoax, 

And I run The Christian Tim€8. 

My neighbor Brown may knock a man down 

With his editorial bludgeon ; 
He may call him a liar. balloonheade<l flier. 

Rapscallion, pick-pocket, curmudgeon. 
But I mustn't tight, for it wouldn't Im> right. 

Though with popular fancy It chimeH. 
For what are mere Jokes In The Daily Hoax 

Are sins in The Chriatian Times. 

My neighbor Brown g«>ts heaps of renown 

For his bushels of criminal detailM. 
The gossip and slander that coll and meander 

Through all of the news thnt he retails. 
But I mustn't do it. I surely should rue it. 

Though common folks dearly love crimes. 
For the popular strokes of Tht- Daily Hoax 

Would be death to The Christian Timts. 

My neighbor Brown may startle the town 

With statements thrilling or silly ; 
They may all be denied and dlsprove<I and de- 

But he nee<l not retract them, nor will he. 
But if 1 decline an inch fn»m the line 

That with strict ezactltude rhymes. 
Not mine are the cloaks of The Daily Hoax; 

Good-by to The Christian Times. 

My neighbor Brown is likely to drown 
In th*> flo4NlH of ads that he carries. 

And they may defraud and cheat and marmiid. 
But no one frets him or harries. 

But the lean little ad that makes my heart 
Some critic austerely begrimes ; 

For no one Invokes for The Daiiy Hoam 
The testa of The Christian Times. 

So what Is left for The Christian Timet, 

If it cannot Indulge in a flst-flght. 
Or yell for a party, or root for McCarty. 

Or tell, when a maiden is kissed right? 
Ah, what is left If we are bereft 

Of those needful advertisement shekels. 
If we must be guyed by the rich Mr. Hyde, 

And remain impecunious Jekylls? 

Well, this is left for The Christian Times, 

And in faith it is not a bad leaving, — 
To turn a stout back on the knave and the 

And be done with pretence and deceiving ; 
To be merrily fed on a crust of bread 

That is buttered with honesty only : 
To grin and to l>ear the blessedest care. 

And never be fearful or lonely. 

And this is left for The Christian Times, 

In lieu of triumphant sensations : 
To picture God's will as It comes to fulfil 

The joy of His germinant nations : 
To comfort the sad, exult with the glad. 

Support the old and the weary. 
To animate youth with a passion for truth 

And banish whatever la dreary. 

To know that the world is richly impearled 

With a love that conquers ail trials : 
To know that the right will win the long Aght 

With selflshness. doubt, and denials; 
Ah, this to the crest of the wealthily blest. 

To the top of prosperity climbs ! 
Who yeartiH for the yokes of The Daily Uoaxf 

Hurrah for The Christian Times! 


Patriots, patriots, love we our land ! 
Strong b«* Its Itattlements ever to stand: 
Brave Ih* the iN'ople's hearts, eager to flght 
Stoutly for fn»edom, for God and the right. 

Patriots, patriots, true to the past. 
Hold we our fathers' faith, long may it last. 
Bold were their spirits for manliest fray ; 
God keep us valorous even as they. 

Patriots, patriots, brotherly wise. 
Ilee«l we the summons of alien cries ; 
Faintest, forlornest of far-away wrung 
Find in uk champions ready and strong. 



Patriots, patriots* never in pride 
Weakest of liberties cast we aside ; 
Heedless of righteousness never may we 
Builcf on the continents, traverse the sea. 

Patriots, patriots, high In our aim. 
Glorious purpose we seek and proclaim, — 
Holiest, happiest, boldest, and best. 
Never to falter and never to rest. 

Patriots, patriots, not in our might, 
Not in our wisdom design we and fight: 
Kept by Thy governance worthy and free, 
God of the nations, we yield us to Thee ! 


It is not the lad's own fishes. 

Nor the lad's own barley cakes 
That the loving Saviour blesses 

And with vast enrichment breaks. 

Likely 'twas his mother gave them 
From her poor, precarious hoard, 

And he only chanced to save them 
And to give them to the Lord. 

Mine or thine, — who cares who buys It? 

Out of books or out of head ? — 
If the Saviour magnifies it. 

And the multitude ar.e fed ! 


Beyond its dignified border 
Stretches the wildwood away ; 

Tangles of happy disorder. 
Freely, triumphantly gay. 

Here in a peace that is pleasant, 
Studious, toilsomely fair. 

Severe as a scholariy peasant. 
Lies my Garden of Care. 

Reaches of turf well watered. 

Breath of a stately perfume ; 
Squares conscientiously quartered, 

Ranked in regiment bloom ; 

Files of lilies and roses, 
Bands of dahlia and phlox ; 

Hidden and intricate closes 
Bound in a framework of box ; 

Walks with never a curving, 

Juniper soldierly trim. 
Modest air of deserving, 

Smiling, and quiet, — and grim. 

Who but must feel the calm gladness 
Here holding militant sway? 

And who could fail of the madness 
To long to leap forth and away ? 

Ever I've toiled in its beauty 
Since the bright years of a boy ; 

This diflBcult Garden of Duty, 
Set in the Wildwood of Joy. 


[Written for the Third Liberty Bond drive.] 

**You are old? Your cash is young," 

Says Sergeant Bond. 
**Send it forth the boys among," 

Says Sergeant Bond. 
"Money runs on tireless feet. 
Money feeds and does not eat. 
Money 's never obsolete," 
Says Sergeant Bond. 


"Are you weak, and can't enlist? 

Asks Sergeant Bond. 
"Money has a mighty fist," 
Adds Sergeant Bond. 
"Money like an eagle flies ; 
Never wounded, never dies : 
Never captured by surprise," 
Says Sergeant Bond. 

"You have not a boy to send ?'* 

Asks Sergeant Bond. 
" bills the lack will mend," 

Says Sergeant Bond. 

"Dollars' eyes are always clear. 

Dollars dread no cannoneer. 

Dollars fight and never fear," 

Says Sergeant Bond. 

"You would like to do your bit?" 

Asks Sergeant Bond. 
**Well, your cash is fine and fit," 

Pleads Sergeant Bond. 
"Let your cash the khaki wear. 
Let it breathe heroic air. 
Send it forth to do and dare," 
Says Sergeant Bond. 


The conscientious voter leaned against the 

"I'd like to do my duty," said he, "and that's 

the truth. 
But here's a list of twenty men of whom I've 

never heard ; 
And how can I vote properly? My faith! it 

is absurd. 
I'm going to propose that stars hereafter 

shall denote 
The names of worthy men for whom a man 

may wisely vote." 




Rome was Dot fashioned in a day* 

So give the Hague a chance. 
Not the flrst furlong ends the way. 
Not the flrst violet brings the May, 
Not the flrst measure sings the lay. 
Not the flrst skirmish wins the fray, 
Not the flrst backache earns the pay. 
Not the flrst sunshine makes the hay. 
But work and pray, and work and pray, 
In spite of all that men can say. 
In spite of cowards that betray. 
In spite of fools that go astray. 
In spite of timid, weak dismay, — 
Yes. work and pray, and work and pray. 
And win the goal of peace some day ! 

So give the Hague a chance. 

Forward ! 
Forward I 
Forward I 
Forward ! 


A Marching Sons. 

out of the selflsh past. 
Forward! boldly at last, 
to help in the world's great need. 
Forward to dare and bleed. 

Forward ! who is a coward now? 
Forward ! bound by a manly vow. 
Forward ! pleasuring left behind. 
Forward ! the higher Joy to And. 

Forward ! Forward ! who will go. 
Forward! to meet the deadly foe? 
Forward ! Forward I nevor a boast. 
Forward! who will Join the host? 

Forward ! to save our native land. 
Forward ! with brothers afar to stand. 
Forward ! to flght with a groaning world. 
Forward ! with freedom's flag unfurled. 

Fonnard ! Forward ! Fonnard still. 

Forward ! over with steady will. 

Forward ! in pathH by htToeii trod. 

Forward ! lod by the living God. 


People of peopleH, from far o'er the ocean 
GatheriMl in pilgrimage hopeful and free, 

(;iadly wr yield thee a grateful devotion ; 
Son of all illnieM. we are loyal to thee. 

Deep III the ages thy free<loni is nH>ted. 

LIlHTty groping through desperate years; 
Now In America flowered and frulte<l, 

Still It is fed with our blood and our tears. 

Not in the languor of ease and contentment. 
Not In the pride of a blinded conceit. 

Daring thy foes with a manly reaentment. 
We shall not falter nor fear a defeat. 

Land of all peoples, to all is thy duty : 
Heir of the ages, how great is thy debt ! 

Laden with power and riches and beauty. 
Those who bestowed it thou shalt not forget. 

Now in the power the nations have glren. 

Country, our country, be brotherly brare. 
Strive till the last cursed chain has t>eea 
riven ; 

Thou who art ransomed, be eager to save ! 


Pray ! 
I*ray ! 
Pray ! 
Pray ! 
Pray ! 
Pray ! 
Pray ! 

for earth has many a need. 

for prayer is vital deed. 

for God in heaven hears. 

for prayer will move the apheres. 

for praying leads to peace. 

for praying gives release. 

for prayer is never lost. 

for prayer well pays its coat. 

for prayer is always power. 

for every prayer's a flower. 

for prayer the Saviour flnda. 

for prayer creation binda. 

for every prayer is gold. 

for prayer Is Joy untold. 

for praying frees from care. 

for Jesus Joins your prayer. 


On the Comrt'9 bulletin 
What a summary of sin. 
What a dress-parade of woe. 
As editions come and go ! 
Murders, riots, failures, flghta. 
Suicides, explosions, blighta. 
Fires, divorces, accidents, 
LynchlngM and embexzlementa. 
Slanders, war, and burglaries. 
Arson, poison, things like theae 
Fill that catalogue of sin. 
Crowd the Comet'8 bulletin. 

Ah. could I. some merry day. 
Steal that bulletin away 
And establish where It stood 
A eoropendlum of gooii. 
Setting forth, in eager phrase 
Brighter hopes and better days ! 
(}|fts that calm the wldow'a feara. 
Ixive that dries the mourner's tears. 
Brave endurance of distress, 
I>e«MlM of high unselflshness, 
I hi ring succor, debts forgiven. 
Spirits snatched from hell to heaTen, 



Self-denials, sacrifice. 
Honesty that has no price, 
Eager age and prudent youth. 
Bold defence of scouted truth, 
Patient plodding crowned at length, 
Hero use of hero strength, — 
These and such as these would win 
Place upon my bulletin. 

But, I wonder — see the horde 
There before the ComeVa board. 
Open-mouthed and gulping in 
All that register of sin ! 
Should I fill that focal place 
With my catalogue of grace. 
Were the substitute allowed. 
Would it, would it, hold the crowd? 


Long-lined, the foaming chargers of the sea 
Press onward in the sun, a glittering host. 
Tossing their plumes and breathing angrily. 
Long-lined, a seething ocean at their backs. 
They dash against the rocks. The flying spray 
Is like the smoke of battle, and the spume 
Is like the froth of men and beasts at bay. 
Driven to desperate daring. On and on 
The long attack is urged, and endlessly. 
Forever and forever, *neath the moon 
That coldly views the onset ; through the day. 
As wheels the steady sun ; in winter's blast 
And summer's brilliant burning, — still the 

Of angry waves upon the stolid rock. 
And still they fall defeated back again. 
And still the silent granite fronts the sea. 

Thus youth confronts the universe, his head 
Held haughtily againHt the surge of fate, 
Kver detiant of the elements. 
Of time, or man, or death, or God Himself ; 
Thus youth, in fancied power, in the pride 
Of ignorant inertness. 

Wiser they. 
The waves that know no victory, but still 
Acknowledge no defeat. Unceasingly 
They ply their warfare, happy if a grain, 
A single grain of all the granite mass 
Is theirs for plunder at the weary end 
Of twelve months' battering ; for so at last. 
Indubitably so. the rock is theirs. 
Its haughty head at level with the tide. 
Its massive battlements a drift of sand. 

And this I learn, now that my youth is gone. 
Ah, this I learn, and bow beneath the yoke. 
(Sod's waves are over me, and all my pride 
Is scattered grain by grain along the beach, 
Or swallowed in the caverns of the sea. 

But be it so ; yes, beaten like the sand ; 
Yes, spread abroad for all the winds to toss 
And the wide ocean to make sport withal. 
So be it ; I am victor even yet. 
For where the rock was black, the sand Is 

white ; 
And where the rock was sullen, how the sun 
Sparkles upon the facets of the sand ! 
And where the rock was lonely, children now 
Play merrily upon the sand's delights ; 
And where the rock was shaken with the 

Of constant battle, in the blessed peace 
Of all the bending heavens now the sand 
Lies glad and humble. It is better so ; 
For youth is strong, but age is stronger still. 
Strong with the power of the sea itself. 
Pliant beneath the guiding hand of God. 


To M. E. W. on Her Birthday. 

Time's a thief ; he steals away 
Many blossoms of to-day. 
Joys he steals and also tears. 
Pilfers hopes and filches fears. 
May the rascal steal from you 
Only what you want him to ! 

Time's a giver and he brings 

Sometimes weights and sometimes wings ; 

Now his gifts are lasting fair. 

Now they vanish In the air. 

May the rascal give to you 

Only what you want him to ! 


He wears the pride of mighty throngs 

With humbled lowliness ; 
He knows the strength of giant wrongs. 

The woes of vast distress. 

He sees the towering bulk of trade 

O'ertop the church's spire. 
And all the passions, unafraid. 

Feed high their living fire. 

Beneath the torch of Liberty 

He sees the millions come. 
Of all the sad world's misery 

The dread, pathetic sum. 

He knows the stupor of the crowd. 

The myriad-headed thrall. 
And many a time his soul is bowed 

With hopelessness of all. 

Yet there, where centred evils dwell. 
He holds his faith in man, 




Defies the leaguered powers of hell. 
And does the thing he can. 

A pygmy laden with a world. 

He staggers on apace. 
And bade the coward Jibe is hurled 

Fuii in the coward's face. 

lie is but one, but one he la 

With all a hero's might. 
And feels a cosmic power is his 

To fight a cosmic fight. 

Beset by giants, by the boast 
Of hell's battalions vast. 

This pygmy struggling with a host 
Will crush them all at last 

•' T 18 I ; BR NOT AFRAID." 

How shall I know Thee, Master, when the 

Falls black about the way. 
When earth is void, and heaven haa no light. 

And wild winds hunt their prey? 

How shall 1 know 'tis Thee, or fiends of hell 

In forms that image Thee? 
They throng wkh mockeries, and can I tell 

When Thou art come to me? 

Yes, by the proof of peace ! Oh, Saviour dear, 

However sore dismayed, 
When once Thy least low whispering I hear, 

1 shall not be afraid ! 


Along its backward trailing myKtical rod 
The trolley draws its hidden and wonderful 
power : 
Ho from our itant. with its proof of the good- 
neHs of (t<Hl, 
\\v draw the comforting strength of the 
prem^nt hour. 


(iiMl blcKs our dear Tnited States, 
Preserve the land from evil fates. 
Lift hifth Hit tMinner fair and free. 
And miard her l>ounds from sea to sea. 

From f<>«> without and foe within. 
From o(M'n shame and hidden sin. 
From boaMtful pride and gre<*dy store, 
(fod keep our nation evermore. 

Forever may her friendly hands 
Receive the poor of other lands 

In kindliness of sisterhood. 

And fill their arms with ample good. 

Assailed by battle boats of wrong. 
God help our country to be strong. 
Assailed by falsehood's crafty crew, 
God help our country to be true. 

€k>d hold the nation's aim sincere, 
God save her heart from coward fear, 
God prosper her in true success. 
And crown her head with worthlneaa. 

God bless our dear United States, 
Preserve the land from evil fates. 
Lift high her banner fair and free. 
And ever guard her liberty. 


My soul with eyes first opened, clearly saw 
God's rule so penetrated by His grace 
That miracles are only commonplace. 

And strange indeed would l>e a ^relgn of law. 


'They sung a hymn" — but rather say 
They let the poor hymn die away. 

They did not lift the hymn along 
On voices eager, glad, and strong; 

They caught it up. a weary load. 
And dragged it on the dusty road. 

They let it drop awhile, and then, 
Wheeling, they took it up again. 

Thus toiled they on till, out of breath. 
The |M>or hymn die<l a natural death. 

'The hymn wan sung"? Ah, pliraa^ unfit f 
They killed the hymn and b|iried It! 


RoseM gleam with red and white ; 
.TexuM Ih a fairer sight. 
VloletN In Mhndows He ; 
Je«uN wins the seeking eye. 

Where the suns«*t's green and gold 
Ah a misital Im unrolle<l. 
Tenderer in beauty still 
Jesus shines on vale and hilL 

Where the mountain's regal dome 
(fives the clouds a castle-home, 
I^irdller than all their grace 
Jesus crowns Ills dwelling-plact. 



Sweeter than the morning light 
Laid upon a maiden bright. 
Lovelier than children are, 
Jesus' face is fairer far. 

From the beauties of the world 
Bjr the happy spring unfurled, 
From Milan's crystallic spell 
And the art of Raphael, 

Turn we with contented eyes 
Where all beauty satisfies. 
Where the soul of loveliness 
Knows to gladden and to bless. 

Jesus, beauty's central sun. 
Thou the only beauteous on^. 
Clear my eyes that I may see 
All is beautiful from Thee ! 


I have buried me out of the land of sin, 
I have straightened my limbs in its last sad 

I have dug me a grave its desert within, 
1 have lowered my being out of its sight. 

I have said the last prayers above the tomb, 
Prayers of penitence, prayers of peace ; 

And out of the land of sin I have come. 
Bathed in the Joy of a full release. 

It was not I that was left behind. 

It is not my past that is buried there; 

I am a soul of another kind. 
And it is another name I bear. 

I am the man who is standing here, 
<tlad and alert for an opening way ; 

I am the houI with its record clear, 
I am the man who was bom to-day. 


I do not ask. my God, for mystic power 
To heal the sick and lame, the deaf and 
I ask Thee humbly for the gracious dower 
Just to be kind. 

I do not pray to see the shining beauty 

Of highest knowledge most divinely true; 
I pray that, knowing well my simple duty. 
This I may do. 

I do not ask that men with flattering finger 
Should point me out within the crowded 
But only that the thought of me may linger 
In one glad heart. 

I would not rise upon the men below me. 
Or pulling at the robes of men above ; 
I would that friends, a few dear friends, may 
know me. 

And, knowing, love. 

I do not pray for palaces of splendor. 

Or far amid the world's delights to roam ; 
I pray that I may know the meaning tender 
Of home, sweet home. 

I do not ask that heaven's golden treasure 
Upon my little, blundering life be spent ; 
But oh, I ask Thee for the perfect pleasure 
Of calm content. 


Use well the bath of slumber, warm and deep. 
To wash away the stains of toil and stress ; 

And then, to wash away the soil of sleep. 
The cold and dashing bath of wakefulness ! 


I^t politicians talk their fill,. 
And papers print what papers will. 
The common folk on either side 
Of the invisible divide — 
Canadian. United SUtes— 
Are providential working mates. 

Each with a continental task, 
A neighbor's helping hand we ask. 
Each under heavy burdens bent. 
We ask a friend's encouragement. 
Each holding Britain mother-dear, 
We ask a brother's loving cheer. 

Three thousand miles without a fort — 
What confidence does that import ! 
Upon the lakes that wash each shore 
There's not a single ship-of-war ! 
And now, with amity's increase, 
A blessed century of peace ! 

Both are the heirs of boundless wealth. 

And of a sturdy nation-health. 

We both extend our welcoming hands 

To honest poor of other lands. 

The same high hopes of splendid growth 

And world-wide service move us both. 

Now on our lengthened border line 

We give but one glad countersign — 

Be it the same till time shall end — 

This: "Who goes there?" "A friend I" *'A 

friend !" 
And let us to all nations prove 
That nations can as brothers love. 



Flrin'found»d il rrsM on tbe ulrlnute rock,— 
Tbe rburcb ancl the life ot (be Lord ; 

No tempest may sbulie It, no tbuaderbolt 
Unconquered hjr cauDan or iwatd. 

Ita turret! leap bigb wltb the purpofe of 
Ita baaner la Jubilant rvrf. 

Out Cattle of CbrlitUui Elndeavor. 

Tbe pledge 1* 
PortcuUlaed ' 

I drawbridie we itoTdllT 

1. gay are tbe ballada of laddie and !■• 
But dearer the darlnga ot youtb ! 

Arnt all the sreat castle with work li alive. 

With labor unaelflably kind; 
How eaa7 the laak aa laielher we atrWe, 

One Maater, one aim, and ooe mind I 

Oh, radiant promise! oh. heartening 

alEht : 

Oh. faope to be Dulllfled never ! 
For Christ la tbe hope, and the Joy. and tbe 

Of Dur Caalle of Cbrlattan Endearor. 




There are who tread the grooves of time 

With clumsy steps ancf slow. 
Whose filmM eyes behold no crime, 

Whose ears are deaf to woe. 
Whose feet are plodding to the rhyme : 
"It always has been so." 

And those there are whose pulses thrill 

With high adventurous life, 
A-leap to master any ill. 

A-thirst for noble strife, 
Their thoughts alert with trenchant skill. 

Their speech a cutting knife. 

They ever know a better mom. 

And hail a happier day ; 
For them the times are newly bom. 

The year is always May ; 
Through cheers or hisses, palm or thorn, 

They keep a sturdy way. 

Thus brother-hearted, hand and glove. 

Right merrily they go ; 
For they are swift In what they love. 

And strong in what they know ; 
Their faith is aye in Qod above, 

Their trust in men below. 


[Read at a dinner given to Governor Sam^ 
uel W. McCall. of Massachusetts, by the Bos- 
ton Authors Club.] 

A scholar is a wondrous wight. 

God's creature through and through ; 
In what he docs a heartening sight, 

And what he scorns to do. 

In hermit calm he dwells alone. 

And yet is blithe and bold ; 
lie finds the philosophic stone. 

But will not make the gold. 

He sways the sceptre of the air, 

Is sovereign of the soil, 
Yet never knows a flighty care 

Nor bends in groundling toil. 

To farthest bounds of land and sea 

The scholar dares to roam ; 
But in his heart, where'er he be. 

He stoutly bides at home. 

He questions all, and has no feart; 

Tastes all, and feels no smart. 
He sets dull mortals by the ears. 

Then watches them apart. 

He has a probe for everything, 
And aalve for every probe. 

He weighs the dust on a beetle's wing, 
He weighs the massy globe. 

As others garner shining grain 

The scholar garners truth. 
That is his health, and that his pain ; 

His age, and yet his youth. 

Are others merry? He is sad. 

Or sad ? He dares to smile. 
He finds a good in every bad, 

A woe in every wile. 

He walks along a lonely shore 

With eager, anxious mien^; 
He stands amid a battle's roar 

Undoubting and serene. 

He darts his blame, he flings his praise. 

With equal hardihood ; 
He crosses all our common ways. 

Yet loves the common good. 

And thus the scholar lives his life, 
Close-pressed yet sundered far. 

And carries into clanging strife 
The silence of a star. 

Men doubt the scholar, men despise 

His plodding, rigid pains ; 
The brute in man so slowly dies. 

The God so slowly reigns. 

Men scout the scholar, bid him bide 

Impassive as a nun, 
And back of dusty volumes hide 

When manly deeds are done. 

Men, raised by thought above the clod. 

By thinking doubly born. 
Men. brought by thinking close to God, 

The thinker dare to scorn. 

Men place their crowns on empty brows, 

Men sceptre savage hands. 
Men take their rulers from the sloughs 

To brutalize the lands. 

And all the while, alone, apart, 

The scholar bides his time, 
Unfretted in his constant heart, 

Untouched by mud and slime. 

For Thought can wait can always wait 

In safety and content. 
His is the power, his the state, 

And his the firmament. 

In crises desperate and grim. 

In times of awful ill. 
The people turn at length to him. 

And ask bis quiet will. 



The people, tired of bludgeon blows. 

Of trickery and gveis. 
And sick of all tbelr stupid woes, 

Will turn to though tfulness. 

They call the scholar from bis books, 

The writer from his pen. 
And bid him leave bis cloistered nooks 

For noisy throngs of men. 

The scholar heeds the strident call. 

And loves the summons well. 
The whole wide world is far too small 

To make a scholar's cell. 

He glories la new books to scan. 
New lore with marvels rife. 

For what so wondrous book as nun. 
What science matches life? 

He carries from his quietness 

A heart serenely pure, 
A spirit calm in toll and stress, 

Hteady and firm and sure. 

The howling clamors clang and crash. 
The struggling factions roar. 

And crude ambitions madly clash 
I'pou that 8tyglan shore. 

And still he holds the scholar's creed 

As by hlM study light, 
Each problem Is a book to read. 

Kach task a page to write. 

And still he holds the simple thread 
Through labyrinthine mase. 

By truth alone sincerely led 
In all his trustful ways. 

Beset l>y Paivslons. each a foe. 

By Greod's unholy crew, 
H** only has the truth to know. 

The truth alone to do. 

By truth he f<ill8 the creeping plot. 

And heals tbt> grievous wound ; 
(»f truth he bulldM bin i'amelot 

And frames his table round. 

Ami Tnith hf makeii bin l»at tie-cry 

Wh«Te battle raKeH Krlni. 
Auil all for truth that dure to die 

Will lH>Ully leap to him. 

W.- bnll the nrhoInr : We. a band 

Of Nlnipb' tliTkly folk. 
(;i\f to him each a heartening baud. 

And favoring fateji invoke. 

ll'* hiM. In all bis ardnouH wayn, 
Thf M'holar'N candbl Meuae. 

An<I lil«« at iHnt. witb ampU* prsliM*. 
Tbf iM-holar'ri rfi>oui|K-UMe. 

Be ye free from the love of money. — Uek.i3;A. 

The love of money Is a chain. 
Binding souls to greedy pain. 

The love of money Is a Jail, 
Bare abode of Hunger pale. 

The love of money Is a csar, 
JjOTd of slaves that wretches are. 

The love of money Is a wall. 
Bleak and barren, strong and tall. 

The love of money Is a pit ; 
Foulest creatures live In It. 

The love of money Is a mine. 
Where the sunbeams never shine. 

Worst of all captivities. 
That the love of money Is. 

Oh. be free, superbly free. 
From Its cramping misery ! 

In Memory of Rev. William E. Wolcoll. 

When soldiers die and kings depart 

And statesmen pass away. 
And men of gold In bank and mart 

Return to common clay. 
Our laurel wreaths we proudly bring. 

Our panegyrics blend ; 
But ah. It Is a sadder thing 

When we have lost a friend ! 

When artists lay their palettea down. 

And singers mutely rest ; 
When builders of a mighty town 

Lie In a narrow chest. 
We praise their genius towering tall, 

Tbelr godlike works commend : 
But ah. the human tears that fall 

When we have lost a friend ! 

Too de<«p for nhallow-sounding phrase. 

Too full for formal itouud. 
Our memories bloom where'er we gate. 

And live in every tiound. 
Wv cannot sp««ak our aching loss. 

Nt»r evt-n r<nnprehend ; 
But ev«ry byway has a erona 

When we have lost a friend. 

.V friend l» such a l»lei»i*«*<f boon. 

T«i ei»mfort niu\ to cbeer ; 
I»«*o'nitH*r Kb>WH with lUbt of June 

When any friend U u**ar : 



And want Ib plenty, sickness health, 

And longest sorrows end. 
When we have found earth's rarest wealth, 

When we have found a friend. 

And such was he, this friendly man, 

This man of sunny mood. 
Of happiness the artisan. 

The prince of brotherhood ! 
Oh, heaven is a cheery place 

Where such as he ascend ; 
Let us go on a llttio space 

And we shall find our friend. 


Now Science, with her keen, amazing eyes. 
Can see through solids, piercing the opaque. 
Can trace the fractured bone's deep hidden 
Or note the buried bullet where It lies. 
Would that her wisdom could be doubly wise. 
To track the ways that lurking evils take. 
To trace the hidden wounds that falsehoods 
And pierce dishonesty's obscure disguise ! 
Some day, somewhere, with vision pure and 
With eyes well washed from sloth and self- 
What Inly is will be sincerely seen. 

And flawless truth a blundering world will 
Preparing for that day, O soul serene, 

Uecelve no thought thou darest not con- 
fess ! 


Well, wife, they've given us at last 

The postal savings banks ; 
And we, the poor and timid folk. 

Will give them many thanks. 
For we were foolish, like as not. 

And stupid as a clam ; 
We would not trust the other banks. 

But we'll trust Uncle Sam. 

Our precious thousand dollars, wife, 

Down underneath the floor — 
It isn't much for big concerns. 

But it is all our store. 
The bulls and bears disquiet me. 

But mighty glad I am 
To trust the blue knit stocking of 

Our steady Uncle Sam. 

Our own good bank is made of tin. 

Beneath the carpet there. 
What burglar would suspect the wealth 

Under that rocklug chair? 

But I will rip the flooring up. 
And, trusting as a lamb, 

I'll take those thousand dollars 
Our honest Uncle Sam. 


For Uncle Sam, we may be sure, 

Will never run away ; 
But he, and what we give to him. 

Are surely here to stay. 
No panics, bulls, or bears for him ; 

No high -finance flim-flam. 
We'll trust the postal savings banks 

Of trusty Uncle Sam. 


I like to rise at flve o'clock. 

And while the world is still. 
Before the noise and fret and shock 

Its busy corners fill, 
I take the ladle of my mind. 

And thick on sleep and dream 
A wonderful deposit find, 

And skim away the cream. 

It's not a factory product, that. 

No curdled whey or cheese. 
No churned out and laborious fat. 

No butter, if you please. 
But just the natural drift o* things. 

The musings of the world. 
The thought that softly floats and clings. 

From deepest deeps unfurled. 

It's none of mine ; but it's no sin. 

As there it waiting lies. 
To put my cautious ladle in. 

And lift the luscious prize. 
And ofter that, though all the day 

Parades In rustling silk. 
Or shouts great news along Broadway, — 

It's nothing but skimmed milk. 


Let the critics range as high 
As the larks or eagles fly. 

Let them soar as high and far 
As the realms of sun and star. 
They will find no distant bound 
That the Bible has not found. 
They will gain no lofty nook 
Whence to patronize this Book. 
Never critic, lower, higher. 
Got beyond the truth's empire. 

Higher critics? — they that bear 
Beaks to rend and claws to tear? 
They whose clumsy pinions fly 
Weighted for a nether sky*; 



Birdti that And their Rwectest Joy 
Not to slnii. but to destroy? 

Higher critics but in name. 

TbeHC tliat fly so low and lame. 

lie 1h higher critic, he. 

All whose breath Is piety, 

All whose goals are those alone 
That the Go<l of goals will own, 

And his wings of soul and sense 

Plumed with snowy reverence. 
All the ways of earth and air 
Form his open thoroughfare. 

Wings that God has touched with grace. 

They may enter any place. 

When Jehovah guides their flight, 
They may reach to any height. 

They may pierce — none else Is ttt — 

I>epths and heights of Holy Writ. 


The gift of time. God's fre«»st boon to men, 
80 steadily outpouHHl through days and 
years ! 

Thus ever let us yield it back again 
In liberal lives and cousi'crate careers. 

The gift of time, for which no gold is weighed, 
N«ir least petition offen'<l to the l^>rd, — 

HhalLlIe not still by gratitude be paid. 
And all our thankful days be Ills reward? 

The gift of time, fit measure of the heart 
Wherewith our Father wholly loves Ills 
own. — 

lie It a symbol of our lesser part. 

Just to be wholly His, and His alone! 


Thus built I my day. — with a l>eam at the 
Some windows lurn«'<l sldewlse. a chimney, 
a door. 
A cellar half finished, a nsif out of place. 
And nil the foundation hcap«il up on the 
tlotir ! 

1 wi*«bed it to ris4> in an orderly way. 

In symmetry fashbiiieil. in iKMiuty designe<] ; 
And tbi«( iM th«> pHslurt. this wilderness day. 

This riot and Jumble of work and of mind ! 

1 thoUKbt of Itsflf It would grow as it should. 
Tart ffirliiclng from part as a blossom un- 

The stone and thf brick and the neat-Jolnte<l 

No Jar or confusion, no cracks and no holes. 

O Architect, Master of days and of me. 

Thou Builder of homes where all ravlali- 
ments dwell, 
No more will I venture to build without Tb«e ! 
Plan Thou my to-morrow, and all wiU be 


The old coat, the easy coat. 
That I have worn so long, 

I would wear it to the wedding. 
And do not see the wrong. 

I love its every wrinkle. 
Its patches and its dirt. 

Why not wear it to the wedding T 
What's the hurt? 

But If I may not wear it. 

Would Bride or Bridegroom grlere 
If I should wear a portion. 

The collur. or a sleeve? 
The upi>er half? or lower? 

I beg for just an arm, — 
All shall Ih> new except It: 
Wbats the harm? 


What is the guerdon high 
When mortals have learned to fly? 
.Shall we win the instinctive arts 
That surpass our reasoni*d part*? 
Shall we learn the trackless way 
To a brighter and happier day? 
Shall we live by the simple rule 
Of Nature's competent school? 
Shall we build new homes above 
That will all Ih> nests of love? 
Shall we grow so wise and strong 
As to draw from sunshine a songT 
Shall we learn, the birds among, 
Tt» rear fffeitual young? 
Ah. surely 'twere all In vain 
To invade the birds' domain 
•Merely to fill more space 
With our clumsy human race! 


"<;od pity the pwr I" I cry. 
.\nd I f(vl a virtuous glow : 
Not many so tender as I 

To the weight of the sad world's 

••<hhI pity the iXMir !" I shout. 

.\n«l draw back my garment's hem. 
*iod pities the |>oor. no doubt; 
I'ut bow am / pitying them? 

•■Chrirlnt I HiCH-lall a eprlehl y B 
HlnclDE across the baihy grounil 
A worker B phallenge bold a il free 
Tbe all cull uf liKtustrv 

ti('e|> In the unilFtbrush Is board 
Tiitf scrsreblDB of tbe buny bird : 
Bpholtl, vlth enrrsptlc brnTcs, 
Butb fwl at once, be fllnss (be leiv. 

And glorlfles bla work witb aoog. 

No dreary drudgery for blm. 

A very dandy gay and trim. 

WItb black and white and ruddy bronQ, 

The imarleat ceDtleman In town ! 

Ab. brotber tollera. bent anil worn 
Benealh your burdena all torlorn, 
Your work ■« a martyrdom, you think? 


Two •■BOtlatB conversed one day, 
Bacb Id  quite contented way. 

And each — the rain and bapcy elF — 
Boltloqulied about hlmaelC. 

Speech la a bridge, from mind to minJ, 
For gainful Interchange designed; 
But when yon meet a •elflab man, 
Tbe bridge baa loat It* central ipan t 




Since I have promised, I am more than one : 
My promise is a iHirtion of my soul, 

A loved or hated yet authentic son ; 

And I without his wholeness am not whole. 

If I deny him, I deny my own ; 

If I nef^lect him. I myself am wronged; 
When I walk forth, no more am I alone. 

And his is all that once to me belonged. 

In his dishonor, what is my disgrace ! 

And in his glory, how am I renowned ! 
Ah. when the King shall bow and kiss his face. 

May I with him be honored, kissed, and 
crowned ! 


The bearers are unsteady. Racked and worn 
With long disease, and clumsily upiiorne. 
What is my anguish with their stumlillug feet 
And nil the push and clamor of the street ! 
But any way, however rough It be, 
O good I*bysician, if I get to Thee ! 

The crowd is great about Thei'. How they 

I^ch in his own absorbing wretchedness, 
Unhee<ling me, the sick man borne of four, 
Halting despondent at the crowd<Hl door. 

But any way, however throngiHl it be. 

O good I*bysiclan, if I get to Thee ! 

The outer stairway is a hill of pain, 
Torture of wasteil form and l>euting brain. 
Narrow and difDcult and high and slow, 
A demon's ladder to n mount (»f woe. 

But any way, howev«T Htei>p it b«>. 

(> go<Kl IMiysiclan. If I g«>t to TIuh* ! 

I^tMtn the roof a glaring light is spn'ad. 

BllHterlng underneath and overhead. 

They t«'ar the tiles; th«* Hmarting dust Is 

(> ni«'n. yv four. b«> ni«*relfully quick! 

But any way. bowi'V«'r liard It In*. 

() goiMl riiyHicl.'in. if 1 livl to Thee! 


I w»*nt to th«' palaci', — 
A woiMb'iful thing! — 

I WfUt to tb<> palace. 
CulUil by the King. 

A b«>ral<l would lead me. 

But. f«M»l ill my pride, 
I itn*'4>r«Hl at hU offer. 

And wav<-d him aside. 

IIuw largt> IK an thf pnlac*'. 
How loftily grand ! 

What vistas of chambers 
On every hand ! 

I wandered and wandered. 
All proud and alone ; 

I wandered and wandered. 
But found not the Throne. 

And still, as I wander. 

Ah. wearisome thing ! — 
I am in the King's palace. 

But far from the King. 


[For the housewarming of the new quaf- 
ters of the Boston Authors Club, November la. 
191.?. The writers named are deceused mem- 
Iwrs of the club.] 

We have moved our tables and chairs. 
And our niultum-in-parvo desk. 

Our clock with its delicate airs. 
And our bits of the statuesque. 

We have moved the pictures and books 
And the catalogue's groaning welffbt. 

The dishes dear to our cooks. 
And lastly the tea-urn, in state. 

We have said a (piavered good-by 

To the dear little noisy room. 
Ami left it despairing to lie 

In its dull and (commercial doom. 

And the lions of literature 

Bid adieu to thi' lions of stone. 

The big r(>d lions demure 

That now are sad and alone. 

But much that the eye sees not 

And only spirits divine 
We move from that hallowed spot 

To our new and acceptable shrine. 

PreiMMices dear in the past, 

MemorloM pn'cituis for aye, 
Fragrnni"<*s ever to last. * 

These we move hither to-day. 

Tsher them Into the car: 

Stiftly ! th«'y t'onn» ! they come! 

It«iyally weleome they are 

Ah they reach their latest home. 

First of tile entering line. 

Our imperial Julia Ward Howe. 
Womanly. Mtrong. and l>enlgn. 

With the nation's bays on her brow. 

Walking there liy her side. 

IIlggins<»n courtly and keen. 
Hiildier of valor tried. 

Hi'holar of gracitais mien. 




Bent but massiyely tall, 
Hale, the prophet, appears ; 

He who was all things to all 
Through all of his brotherly years. 

And Mrs. Moulton the kind, 
l*oet and patron and friend ; 

(iilman, learned and reflned ; 

Foss, with his sunshine to spend. 

See them crowd in at the door ! 

Butterworth, ample of cheer, 
(luild with his gracious four-score, 

Lloyd, our knight without fear ; 

Richardson, teacher true-famed, 
A spirit of steadiest flight ; 

Lilian Dreyfus, well-named, 
Lily of sweetness and light ; 

Knowles, the Bostonian Keats; 

Dolbear, in gentle old age ; 
And Alice Palmer, where meets 

The glory of woman and sage. 

See them still entering in. 

Dedicating the door. 
Throngs of our writer liin. 

Throngs of our comrades of yore. 

These are the treasures we move 

Here to our newest al)ode, 
Treasuros of friendship and love. 

Ah. an exuberant load ! 

Here we shall add to our wealth 
Riches of fellowship rare, — 

Friendship, stronger than health ; 
Friendship, fairest of fair. 

Friendship, the writer's true gold. 
Here let it gather and shine, 

The new and the ever-new old. 

Till the last of us pens his last line ! 



All power is near. The sun flings everywhere 
Its energetic treasures through the air. 
The sea's impulsion beats around the world, 
Through all the sky electric force is hurled. 
And close by every trembling human fear 
The undefeated might of God is near. 

All loveliness is near. The common eye 
Drinks beauty from the bowl of every sky. 
There's not a weed, there's not a dusty clod, 
But shines with all the radiance of God. 
There's not a human heart, however drear, 
But all celestial fairnesses ar» near. 

All good is near. The bird-songs are not far, 

To all horizons circles every star, 

The sea. the air, the mountain, field, and wood 

Are packed with providence and crammed 

with food. 
And wheresoe'er an eyelid holds a tear 
The unimagined peace of God is near. 

But we are far. Alas, what bridge can span 
The dark withdrawal of the heart of man? 
What lavish infinites suffice to fill 
The awful chasms and gulfs of human will? 
Yet even here — thank God ! yes, even here 
The reaching Cross of Calvary is near. 


Were a king to come to my lowly home. 
Or a prince or a duke or an earl. 

What a cleansing would furliish the whole of 
the house. 
Till it shone as pure as a pearl ! 

How the best that I had, on the floor and the 

On table and mantel and wall. 
Would gladly be lavished apd eagerly spread. 

And I l>e ashamed of it all ! 

Vet the Monarch of monarchs, the Only Su- 
The Lord whom the heavens obey. 
The Splendor that passes the height of a 
Will visit my household to-day ; 

And the shutters are closed, and the cobwebs 
are thick. 

And a hinge is off of the door, 
And I, in a garment of wretchedness clad. 

Am down in the dirt on the floor ! 


[The pioneer aifroplane conatructed by Pro- 
fessor Langley of the Smithsonian Institution 
failed to fly because of slight defects which 
were remedied by others after ten years, 
whereupon this first of air-ships made a tri- 
umphal flight. The ridicule heaped upon 
"Langley's Folly." as the invention was 
called, hastened the death of the patient in- 
vestigator who broke the way for modern avi- 
ators. ] 

Honor to Langley, from humble and great ! 

Hail to his genius, immortally rare! 
Better than never, though shamefully late; 

Honor to Langley, the King of the Air ! 

Praise for the toll of the bold pioneer ! 

Patiently, skilfnlly framing the plan, 
Learning the far from the common and near. 

Blazing a path in the heavens for man. 

Folly and Folly and Folly we cried, 
Mocked at his dreams of the wonderful way, 

Till, broken-hearted, the pioneer died 

Oat of these hindering wrappings of clay. 



Spirit of vonturiof?, npirit of lifrht. 

How you escaped from our biclcerinic sneers 

Happily fortli on the beautiful flight, 

Out in the glow of the welcoming spheres ! 

After a decade, unheeded, forgot. 

Testing your '•Folly." we find that it flies I 
penitent, shamed, we erase the long blot. 

Lifting your praise to the echoing skies. 

Better than never, though shamefully late ; 

Sadly our folly at last we repair. 
Hail to the spirit so patiently great ! 

Honor to Langley, the King of the Air ! 


The river curving to the sea. 

The ocean populous of ships. 
Hold the fair city tenderly. 

And press her forehead with their lips. 

For years but leave her fairer still. 
And glffimlng like a golden star ; 

Ever upon her central hill 
A brighter glory shloea afar : 

The glory of a thoughtful mind. 

A spirit oi>en to the sky. 
A heart that beats for all mankind. 

A soul that worships God Most High. 

No civic glory like to these. 

Though stone on stone tremendous tower, 
And all the wide world's argosies 

Bring donatives of wealth and power. 

From those Ideals never shrink, 

I>ear town, nor once to mammon swerve, — 
Your eager eminence, to think ; 

Your ample guerdon. Just to serve. 


(Yowding the eastern gates. 
Crowding the western gates. 
To them* rnlttnl States 

Frt>m all the earth. 
lliTi' may they ever tlnd 
WVlcome and milace kind, 
Freeilom t)f heart and mind. 

Fortune and worth. 

II«>r(* may we l>e as oni*. 
Her** may the right 1m* done. 
Here l«>t our pur|Nim> run 

Trut* evernmre ; 
Here In fair brtrtherhofMl 
S4*eklng the common g«HMl, 
Stand as our fathers stood. 

Bear as they bore. 

Ood of our liberty. 
Keep us securely free. 
Grant us on land and sea 

Blessings of peace: 
But for the stricken right 
May we l>e Arm to fight. 
And may our honest might 

Ever Increase. 


[His administration appeared tame to many 
compared with that of hta strenuous pred<*- 
cemor. 1 

lH?ar Mr. Taft, so smiling sweet. 

So quiet-kind 
And most agreeable to meet. 

Say. are you blind? 
The country *d rather have a frown 

Breeding dismay ; 
We want — and want it done up brown — 

A grand-stand play. 

Where are your thrillers, flaming Are. 

Taunt tournaments. 
Such as we properly desire 

From Presidents? 
This calmness, this Judicial air 

Is not the way ; 
<>lve us the boom, the blast, the blare. 

The grand-stand play. 

We do not care for balanced phrase 

Of bench and bar ; 
We want the glitter and the blase 

Of wordy war. 
We do not seek the level view. 

The steady ray ; 
But all the country wants from you 

A grand-stand play. 

Come, get a move on. Mr. Taft ! 

Cut out your desk. 
Be noisy, be a little daft. 

Be picturesque. 
We want to be amused, and thrillrd. 

And Jarred, and gay : 
We want, in flaming letters billefl. 

A grand-stand play. 


**llalf seas over" In ruin is drowned : 
*'Whole s4>aM over" has reached the Arm 

**llalf seas over" Is lost snd alone ; 

** Whole S4'as over" has met with his own. 

*'IIalf seas over" Is tossed by the wavea ; 
*'Whole seuM over" finds ally that savea. 

8o here Is a hand, dear Enghind. to thee. 
Over the whole of the sundering 




The Gates Ajar are open wide. 
And she who once had passed inside 
On daring wings of reverence. 
Has entered, and will there abide. 

What joys already she has seen ! 
What happy valleys robed in green, 
What lifted mountains fine and far. 
And lakes aglow with morning sheen ! 

How light she walks ! and every place 
Wears a familiar, loving face. — 
Fond scenes the traveller once knew, 
And longed her journey to retrace. 

What homely voices endless dear 
Her hungry soul has leaped to hear ! 
What heartsome bits of every day 
Have fallen on her eager ear ! 

And now, I think, amid the lights 
Of blessed home, she sits and writes 
What we perhaps shall read some day 
Beyond the shadows and the nights. 


Bold Science faces north. With steady eye 
He fronts the stern, mysterious unknown. 

Assails its boundaries with How and Why, 
And claims its farthest reaches for his own. 

Art faces west. Where many a sun has set. 
Where skies are soft with memory and 
She pays her tender tribute of regret. 

And learns to smile just that she may not 

The Poet faces east, and waits the day. 
His eyes are bright with prophecies of 
And as he sings, behold ! a herald ray 

Leaps to the mountain, glimmers on the 

Ix>ve faces south, the warm, Impassioned 
The languorous south whose torpor holds a 
Its zephyrs breathe a kiss upon her mouth. 
And all its valleys echo to her name. 

Earth faces downward, inward to himself. 

Concentred flow his currents of desire. 
Swift with ambition, clogged with greedy pelf ; 

His front is rock, his hidden heart is Are. 

Religion faces upward to the stars. 

There knowledge, there the older past she 
There truest self, love that no passion mars. 

And there the dawn of all eternities ! 


When work is harassing 
And driving you mad, 

And not enough patience 
And strength to be had, 

I'll give you a medicine 
Fairly sublime : 

Just get a bottle of 

Take "Oneatatime," brother. 

Soon you will find 
Quiet serenity 

Filling your mind : 
Heaps of accomplishment 

Swiftly will climb, 
Moved by the magic of 


A Christian substance this. 
Whose sacriflcial bliss 
Is flrmly to outspread 
A path for men to tread. 
Whose joy it is to know 
The way the many go. 
And make the footing there 
Enduring, smooth, and fair. 

Doubtless the asphalt feels 
Those myriad grinding heels, 
The pounding horses' feet, 
The trafllc of the street. 
The picks of flckle men 
That tear It up again, — 

The cruel frosts that crack 
Its winter-stiffened back. 
The furnace of the sun 
When winter's days are done ; 
Tet bears a cheerful heart 
For that inferior part. 
And heals the winter's woe 
With summer's tarry flow ! 

Right Is your rede to us, 
Brother bituminous ! 
Where human sharks contend 
Each for a glutton's end. 
Where men ignoble flght 
Each for his petty right. 
Where men like leeches live 
Only to get, ^ot give, — 

Oh, for a second flood. 
Of black, asphaltic mud. 
To sweep them all away 
From out the groaning day. 
To make a pavement meet 
For more unselfish feet, — 
Not damned, I mildly pray, 
But maoadamed for aye ! 




See my dainty little girl, 

Pinic and white, and hair a-curl. 

At the height of happineHii 

With a **8pick-and-8pandy" dress ! 

Smoothing that way, pressing this. 

Every crinkle Is a bliss. 

Every raffle a delight. 

And the sash Is heaven outright ! 

Such an Innocent am I 
With the latest book I buy. 
Use and thought and profltings, — 
They are secondary things. 
Now, it quite suffices me 
Just to hold it lovingly. 
Breathe its fragrance on the air, 
Test the binding firm and fair, 
I*res8 its cover like a friend, 
Turn its pages to the end. 
Note the type, the gilding fine. 
Write my name, and make it mine \ 


The Punctuation Points one day, 
In the type case wh<»re they lay. 
Each an earnest pleading pressed 
To Ihj ruler of the rest. 

Said the Period, "I'm the end 
Toward which every line is penned." 

Cried the Comma. **Nay. but me 
Printers use most frequently." 

Bragged the Hyphen, "Lo! I stand 
With a word in either hand." 

Screamed the Exclamation, "Fie! 
All the writers' force am I." 

Urge<l the Question Mark In glee, 
"Don't men always ask for me?" 

Cried the Colon, "Printers call 
Me to intruduce you all." 

Semicolon : "Mine the art 

To hold difrering thoughts apart.** 

Hut the Dash triumphantly 
Drove the others to the wall. 
"I'm the only Point," said he. 
'That the Author§ use at all !'* 


What weight nf woe we owe to thee. 

Accurst com|»arative degree! 

Thy paltry step ran never give 

Access to the superlative; 

For he who would the wisest be. 

Strives to make others wise as be. 
And never yet was man judged best 
Who would be better than the rest ; 
So does comparison unkind 
I>warf and debase the haughty mind. 

Make not a man your measuring-rod 
If you would span the way to God ; 
Heed not our petty "worse" or "less. 
But fix your eyes on perfectness. 
Make for the loftiest point in view. 
And draw your friends along with yoa. 



My soul Is shipwrecked in the night 

Upon a black and vacant shore ; 

A flood of murky air before. 
Of surging air to left and right. 

The waves roll In, the waves roll in, 
And each a sombre spectre bears. 
The writhing forms of many cares. 

The colling forms of many a sin ; 

Neglected tasks that frown austere. 
Glimpses of old friends angry, gleams 
Of dead delights and drifting dreams 

And gibbering ghosts of empty fear. 

Out on the flood, the faces pale 

Of drowning hopes, so fair, so fair ; 
Or, tossing here and floating there. 

The tattered rags of fortune's sail ; 

And, wrenched from out that midnight grave. 
The white corpse of a passion swin-t. 
Rolled by the darkness to my feet. 

And then snatched back into the wave.- 

My eyes are straining through the deep. 
This surging night that has no end ; 
Make haste, O pitying Christ, and send 

Thy blessed rescue bark of sleep ! 

• • • 

The ship came not. but in its st(*ad 
Its Master Ht(»od uiH>n the shore: 
And lo ! the waves were black no more ; 

And lo ! a gleam from overhead. 

He touched my hot and throbbing eyes. 
The Master, with Ills loving hand. 
And softly on that midnight strand 

There grew the light of paradise. 

Those hateful forms of sin and care 
Flung at me by that ghostly sea. — 
I know not if they ceasetl to l»e, — 

I saw them not, for Christ was there. 

Still sleepless stretched the night away. 

But joyfully, for (^irtst and 1 

Together read the o|M*ulng sky. 
And watched the dawning of the day. 




It is made of tbe jubilant sparrows, 
All chirping a different song, 

And the song sparrow singing supremely, 
So royally rippling along. 

It is made of the chirruping robins. 

The orioles carolling gay, 
The pewees plaintively urgent, 

The trumpeting crow and the jay. 

It is made of the yellowthroat's whistle. 
And the redstart's sibilant rune, 

Of the towheo's militant summons. 
And the vireo's iterant tune. 

It's a rare and imperial chorus, 

So jauntily merry and true : 
Bird brothers ! 'tis mightily pleasant 

Beginning the day's work with you ! 


The jitney dodges in and out 

With rubber-footed grace ; 
Its heart is merry, bold, and stout. 

It holds a dashing pace. 
It sports a nabob luxury 

With democratic air ; 
And all can lords and ladies be. 

For nickels are the fare. 
With subtle witchery and wile. 

Patrician and sublime. 
It gives a dollar's worth of style 

For only half a dime. 

The weary hanger at the strap 

Has found his own at last ; 
Upon a kindly leathery lap 

His grateful bulk is cast. 
No treading on another's toes, 

No struggle for the door ; 
Our hunching, bunching, crunching woes. 

Our grumbling woes are o'er. 
It soothes, it purs, our soul it frees 

From worry, toll, and grime ; 
It gives a dollar's worth of ease 

For only half a dime. 

It bids adieu to clanging din, 

To fetters of the rail ; 
A free domain it travels in. 

And halts at any hall. 
It gathers up a friendly crowd, 

And jesting fancies play. 
Where none are cross and none are proad, 

But all are blithe and gay. 
And when the jolly trip is done 

In really record time, 
We've bad a dollar's worth of fun 

For only half a dime. 


I dug to find the great world's Heart of 

Deeply I dug, and labored hard and long. 
Hotly I dug, indignant at man's woe. 
And that a God of love should have it so. 

At last, in central deeps of cruel heat 
Where all the elements of evil meet, 
I found the Heart of Wrong and pulled it out : 
It was my own mad-foolish heart of doubt. 


Do you seek, when you take up your paper. 

Some beastly and horrible tale. 
Some Saint who has Cut up a Caper, 

Some Paragon Landed in Jail? 

Are you keen for a serpentine Scandal. 

For a briskly salacious Divorce. 
For a Preacher who Goes Off the Handle, 

A Wife who has cause for Remorse? 

Do you look for an Accident bloody, 

For the Plague's insidious woe? 
For the Crooks who have made it a study 

To steal from the high and the low? 

For a sweepingly Fierce Conflagration, 
An Earthquake that Shatters a Town, 

For War's remote Desolation, 

For a Storm and a Thousand that Drown? 

Do you feel disappointed and cheated 
When headings are peacefully tame? 

Have the editors then been defeated, — 
A newspaper only in name? 

Ah, editors mainly are feeders 

Of mouths that they measure or guess ! 

It's the yellow, sensational readers 
Make the yellow, sensational press. 


One mystery there is, and one alone, 

Baffles the human spirit with despair. 

Filches the very sunlight from the air. 
And wrenches every breath into a groan. 
Oh, it is when our loved, our very own. 

The good, — so good ! the fair, — so dearly 

Are doomed some awful agony to bear. 
And all their sweet, pure life becomes a moan. 
Send us, O God ! amid our aching tears 

The memory of Thine accepted fate, — 
Thy Son, Thy best belovM, torn with spears 

Of all our mortal woes disconsolate ; 
So that our mystery of pain appears 

A mystery of love and not of hate. 


Who wilki 01 

And oDir tbr waTelpti arouiiil them, 
Tct ruu&lDg a« itralgtit as can be. 
Whitr Id tbr blue. 
I'arallpl 100. 
8tretcfalD( afar 

Out to tbe liUndi anj tar awar 
Berond the curve of tbe thellerlng bar — 
Harr jrou seen tbe itreela la tbe *eaT 

D tbMt mjillcat itrteta? 
xne nreeiet go raclDg along them. 
Tbe dream* of maldenbood throng tbi 
And rancj witb faacj mccti, 
DalDtllr gaj. 
One vlth the daj. 
DancInK slonK 
Swept by a aong 
Oat to a dlttant. ibadawj ahore. 
And ther will i-ume liack t 
Along tbe atreeta of tbe «««. 


Ira offend ih* Prtaldant early In 

hia ad mlnlat ration. 1 

 talkf-talk; aallon. 
le ran talk no brlghtlr 

Tbe common aort of grafter* 
We know jou bave no Mra for: 

Your bonur higb and ileadr 
We bare do ■ligblrsl feara for. 

Sot when four part]''! proDt 

Serma ranged aire la at tbe natloB'a, 

And pleadefa urge li on jrou 
WItb ipeclouB allegation*. 

 V lalk to. nnri they'll n 
IT juu will not do It. 

Aadear an any adder. 

And And a llmrrkk lor It 

To aend tbrm oK the n 



And when some trusty helper 
Falls off to lower courses, 

And yields to base ambition 
Or other of hell's forces, 

Don't listen to his urgings 

Of friendship's claim upon you, 

But calmly drop the traitor 
Nor wear his fetters on you. 

And when you have no message 
That you are hot to utter ; 

Or when your thought, half ready, 
Will only halt and stutter ; 

Don't listen to committees 

Who urge you to make speeches. 

No matter what the meeting 
Or what the votes It reaches. 

In short, wise Dr. Wilson, 

We trust your head and heart, air ; 
We know you're good and honest 

•And "most uncommon smart," sir. 

And your administration 

High Fame will deck with flowers. 
If you will follow only 

Such wise advice as— ours ! 


Cheer up ! for the sun Is a-shlnlng 

Somewhere, In the heart of the sky ; 
Cheer up ! for the folly of whining 

Is close to the sin of a lie. 
Cheer up ! for the burden of sorrow 

Has ever a coming relief ; 
Cheer up ! there's a brighter to-morrow ; 

Cheer up ! there's an ending of grief. 

Cheer up ! or the present Is wasted, 

The beautiful, only, to-day ; 
Cheer up ! till a beaker is tasted 

Why turn In abhorrence away? 
Cheer up ! for good sense is a leaven 

To lighten the load Qt a fear ; 
Cheer up ! for all God and ail heaven 

Are offered, and eager, and here. 


When Juliet from her balcony 

Waved the white wonder of her hand, 
Or bright Miranda of the sea 

Allured him to her mystic strand ; 
When Queen Tltania and her sprites 

Invited him to fairy play. 
When Falstaff called him forth o' nights, — 

Did Shakespeare tell Anne Hathaway? 

No doubt when Hamlet summoned him 

To parleyings of life or death. 
When stark Othello sternly grim 

Entreated him with torrid breath. 
Or even when wise Portia spoke 

Her firm Judicial yea and nay. 
The poet then his silence broke 

And Shakespeare told Anne Hathaway. 

But ah, when sweet Cordelia wept. 

And Rosalind paced the forest aisle. 
When Hermia in the woodland slept 

And Cleopatra wove her guile ; 
And most when bold Petruchlo 

Compelled his consort to obey 
And bend her haughty humors low, — 

Did Shakespeare tell Anne Hathaway? 


Who came from the tomb 

When Jesus came. 
To scatter our gloom 

With his living name? 
'Twas the angel Hope, 

Whose sunbeams go 
To the farthest scope 

Of our darkest woe. 
Hope came from the tomb 

When the Saviour came. 

Who came from the tomb 

When Jesus came. 
In the bursting bloom 

Of a world aflame? 
It was Joy, the angel. 

Who sang and sang 
Till the glad evangel 

Through the wide world rang. 
Joy came from the tomb 

When the Saviour came. 

Who came from the tomb 

When Jesus came 
From the conquered doom 

Of our sin and shame? 
It was Love, supreme 

Of the angel host. 
And her graces gleam 

Where we need them most. 
Love came from the tomb 

When the Saviour came. 


[Written for Christian Endeavor's Thirtieth 

Who plants a seed, he little knows 
What warm arousing light is lit. 

What spring of living water flows. 
What forces leap to nurture It. 


Who plants a seed, what thought has he 
Of timid sprout, of leaflets young. 

Of sturdy trunlc and branching tree, 
Of noble forest far out flung? 

What dream has he who plants a seed 

Of blossoms ravishing the air. 
Of shade that cools, of fruits that feed, 

Of agelong blessings hidden there? 

And he who plants the seed of thought, 
Home eager truth, some daring plan. 

Never he Icnows what he has wrought 
Of never-ending good to man. 

Through subtle channels winding swift 
The foodful currents gladly run. 

And all the heavens bring their gift 
Of tender breezes, rain, and sun. 

It feels the elemental fears. 

The frost, the storm, the barren skies: 
And yet throughout the growing years 

Its roots extend, its branches rise ; 

Until, one knows not how or when. 

Through all the world the thought has 
And myriads of grateful men 

Pluck from the branches overhead. 

Oh, happy he who plants a seed 
With promises of fruitage fraught ; 

But his a happier, holier deed 

Who plants in human souls a thought. 


They arrested Weary Willie 

And landed him in Jail ; 
A plain case of assault it was. 

Because he Hit the Trail. 

— The Chicago Br€tz9, 

And little Grade Greeley 

Was very, very rude : 
Though s4M>mlngly quite gentle. 

She Struck an Attitude. 

— The 8t. LouiB Pu9h. 

There's dashing IMrky Dawson, 

A lad with yellow curls — 
They hange<l the chap last winter 

For Bleighiog all the Girls. 

— The Setc York Howl. 

You've heard of Tommy Tippler. 

They strung £im up as well : 
He used both cloves and inibebs. 

And therewith Killed the Bmell. 

—The BuftQlo Bug. 

And pretty Betty Blossom. 

A peach, a perfect dream. 
They had to jug the lassie 

Because she Whipped the CreAm. 

— The at. Lomit DouH. 

They found that Signor Baton 

Was guilty of a crime : 
With little provocation 

He madly Beat the Time. 

—The MinneapoiU MUL 

And poor old Harry Hunter. 

Of sturdy heart and limb. 
Because he Shot the Rapids, 

They executed him. 

—The Miltcaukec Mug. 
And so on. 


Not Nicholas, with bulging pack 
Upon his broad and kindly hack ; 

Not Santa by the chimney side. 
The eager stockings satisfied ; 

Not Kriss, the Judge of bad and good 
In all the merry neighborhood; 

Not these, in spite of all men say. 
Shall rule as saint our Christmas day ; 

But he who bore, as poets dream. 
The Christ across a raging stream. 

He shall onr Christmas gifts confer ; 
Bringer of Christ, St. Christopher ! 


Clear eyes, that dance with Inwanl lljclvl ; 

Clear shining skin, so flrmly white ; 

Muscles that tingle for the road 

Or lightly lift a gallant load ; 

Serenity of steady nerves ; 

Bright beauty's soft alluring cnrrea : 

Alert res|)ouse to sight and sound 

And fragrance of the year's glad round. — 

Ah. what is fame and what it wealth. 

Matched with the rich renown of health? 

And what does luxury possess. 

liought with dys|>epsla's wretchedness? 

I^t all my singing days be spent 

With honest labor, calm content: 

I^t sturffy body, eager mind. 

Their partnership superbly bind : 

And let my life's clear currents nw 

Beneath the shining of the snn. 




Out of the East the royal Sun, 
Sign of a glad new day begun. 
Out of the East, to heal and bless, 
Rises the Sun of Righteousness: 
Out of the East is Easter. 

Out of the East the Stars arise. 
Myriad suns of other sicies ; 
So is Judfea's Saviour found 
Lofd of all races the Earth around : 
Out of the East is Easter. 

Out of the East the Wise Men came. 
Led by the wondrous, heavenly flame. 
Now the King of their starry lore 
Rises to reign forever more : 
Out of the East is Easter. 

Out of the East the warmth and power, 
Light and love for the living hour, 
Joy unceasing and full and free. 
Meant for the lowliest, even me : 
Out of the East is Easter. 


It is not easy to live and toil 

Where the hurrying throngs go by : 
There are choking dust-clouds that fret and 
There are clattcrings harsh and nigh. 
There are Jostlings and fightings and discords 
In the turbulent caravan, — 
But he "lived in a house by the side of the 
And was a friend to man." 

There are other houses, on the hill, * 

That are richer and finer far. 
Where all of the fruit of the world's proud 

Its ease and its comforts are; 
While here in the valley the homes are built 

On a cheap and uniform plan, — 
Yet he "lived in a house by the side of the 

And was a friend to man.*' 

It is hard for a poet-soul to live 

On the edge of a rattling street. 
Where the crass and the crude and the prim- 

And the coarse and the ugly meet ; 
He would rather dwell on a mountain-top 

And the far borlson scan. — 
But he "lived in a bouse by the side of the 

And was a friend to man." 

O brother ; now you have passed away. 

And we see where you lived and died, 
IIow much of the soil of our common clay 

Is graciously glorified ! 
Like you we browl on the homely work 

Of the commonplace artisan, 
Till ire would live by the side of the road, 

And be the friends of man. 


Some people travel in their autos. 

Some travel in the railway cars ; 
But I've a better way to travel. 

Unbroken by your bolts and Jai 
A l>etter way than horse or cycle. 

Than biplane, steamer, or canoe; 
The quite ideal way to travel 

To Patterson or Timbuctoo. 
My way is swift as any eagle. 

Or tarries for a steady look — 
The way of greatest ease and comfort : 

To wit, I travel with a book. 

I dread no storms. I mock at danger, 

I reach the farthest, know the near ; 
I pierce the desert and the Jungle, 

Without the tremor of a fear. 
I find the wisest of campanions, 

I get the sagest of achrice. 
And all my travelling Is buttressed 

With comforts of the highest price. 
What is the best of travel volumes. 

For highway, byway, hidden nook? 
The book with which I choose to Journey? 

Of course it is the pocketbook ! 


O. A. R. Memorial Day. 1919. 

In Heaven too. each blossoming May, 
I think they keep Memorial Day ; 
And not in scattered, feeble groups. 
But one great host of marching troops. 

The soldier lines are shortening here. 
Swiftly, sadly, year by year ; 
But yonder, in the skies of spring. 
The glorious lines are lengthening. 

Still waves Old Glory, even there. 
And Heaven itself is not more fair. 
Still rises in that peaceful land 
The music of the martial band. 

No wounds, no weariness! they know 
The springing youth of long ago. 
Their speeding miles am stoutly run 
As in the days of Sixty-one. 



And how the shining columns cheer 
As mighty generals appear. 
Heroes of fortune's high degree. 
Grant, Sherman. Sheridan, and Lee ! 

Ah, yes, and Lee ; for on those plains 
No thought of ancient strife remains. 
But brotherly they march away. 
The comrade blue beside the gray. 

And thus as each recurring year 
The soldier lines grow shorter here. 
Our saddened thoughts will gladly rise 
To that review beyond the skies. 

[Referring to a remark of President Taft.j 

•'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." 
But crowns. I hear, are open at the top. 

The fear, the fret, the worry, and the frown 
Arise in such a head, but need not stop. 

On crownM heads the airs of heaven blow 
With due respiK't and soothing reverence ; 

Whatever fever lurks in brains below. 

Through open crowns the breexes bear It 

But. ah ! what sizxling frets and torrid fumes. 
Like bacon frying in its own hot fat — 

What flreless-cooker miH4>ry consumes 

The bead confined within a stovepipe hat ! 


We lay too many lines. 

We build t(H> many barks. 
We drudge on heavy, clumsy designs 

Like autiquat(>d arks. 

We nee<l to truKt the void, 

Ijiunch forth into the air. 
Know we are one with the farthest sun. 

And make our God our prayer. 


The sktiiper of the Mary Ann. a Jolly chap 

is he ; 
With Jaunty Jest and merriment he gayly 

itails the sea. 
He knows no navigation and he miiuMMl his 

course a mile. 
But said. "It diH'sn't matter, so long as I 

can smile." 
He ran sgainNt an island, and he almost 

sank the uhlp — 
-Well, n.ver mind !" he brightly said, ••we'll 

ha\e u ch(N>rfiil trip." 
lie did not set> the gathering storm, but 

roared a sprightly sung. 

"O sailors, keep a-singing, and the way will 

not be long !" 
The tempest blew him eastward and the 

temi)est blew him west : 
Whatever way he travelleil, he liked that 

way the best. 
He lost his course entirely. i)ut he never 

lost his grin ; 
Said he, 'The bark of laughter is the ship 

to travel in !" 

And somewhere on the ocean, from the trop- 
ics to the pole. 

The storms are still abuffeting that opti- 
mistic soul. 

He knows no navigation, but '•What's the 
odds?" asks he. 
"So long as I am sailing on the top side of 
the sea?" 


"I've had a vacation," said Timothy Brown ; 

•'A fine one, although I have not left the 
I merely vacated my worries and fears. 
And at once became younger by fairly five 

I vacated my ruts, and began to enjoy 
My regular, humdrum, but useful employ. 
I changed my whole outlook and vision of 

And made it a pastime instead of a strife. 
I've had a vacation, not vacant, a bore. 
But fuller and freer than ever before; 
The best of vacations for fat purse or lean, — 
A change of the seeing Instead of the scene." 


When the tongue, with ready art. 
Bodies forth a servile heart ; 
When Its vows forgotten fade 
Speedily as they are made ; 
When it raises honor high. 
But its own life is a lie ; 
When big wonls from nothing leap, 
•Talk is cheap," for life Is cheap. 

When the tongue with carefulness 
Tells the truth, nor more nor leas; 
When it l>oldly dares to speak 
For the wrongi^ and for the weak ; 
When with mo<lesty and grace 
Talk adorns a homely place; 
When it comes from sources deep* 
Talk is anything but cheap. 

"Speech is silver." sages sing; 

••Silence is a gulden thing." 
Other doctrine do I hold : 
Talk is gold when Ufe la gold. 





Young Tom. lett out ot big father'! will, 1 Which soea to iliow that to peraon 
Wh«a he learned it, reformed ; la hla heir Tbousb there la not a will ther 
to-day. 1 way. 

at iklU 
B IB yet a. 


'Thla la a meirj world. 
Truly a jal'V world"— 
So slngi the oriole. 

HiB ia a gwtDging aoog. 
HlB IB a BWlDgiog neat. 
HlB la a BwlDglQg flight. 

He IB a wlDgM flame. 
He beaiB a lighted breait. 
Suuahlne Incamaled. 

Ever B-tllt iB he. 
Tilting at gloom Inea* 
Happy Sir Oriole! 



Is it not Joy to take them from the box, 
And shake them out in tumbling, happy folds, 
And hold them up for all men to admire? 
So, with a burst of Joy, my glad new year. 

I want a new year. Ah, but new things cost ! 
Well, I will pay the price of this new year : 
The price of patience, and the price of time ; 
The price of prayers ascending to the God 
Who was before all years began to be. 
And will be through the new years as the old ; 
The price of partings from the lower aims, 
Of stanch adhesion to the rugged best ; 
The price of life ! 

I cannot pay the price. 
Pay Thou for me, O Christ, my brother Christ ! 
Be Thou my Patience, and be Thou my Prayer ; 
Be Thou my Strength of hard, laborious will. 
From out Thine endless ages with my God 
Bring newness to this little year of mine. 
So shall it be Thy year and not my own. 
Yet doubly mine, as I shall dwell with Thee ; 
Yes, doubly mine, as through it I shall pass 
To Thine eternity forever new. 


There's a garden far in Fancy 
Where the sweetest flowers grow. 

Where a subtle necromancy 

Weaves again all ancient woe, — 

Tears it up and weaves it over 
Into blossoms of delight. 

Daisies, violets, and clover. 
Royal roses, lilies white. 

There the ugly shape of sorrow 
Softly curves and brightly gleams. 

In the garden of to-morrow, 
In the certainty of dreams. 


I'll read the Bible with a microscope. 
The many bidden blessings there to flnd. 

The gold that well repays my searching hope. 
The Jewels of the heart and of the mind. 

With telescope the Bible I will read, 
80 far and vast its shining glories are, 

80 swiftly truths to ardent truths succeed, 
A bright-heaped galaxy of sun and star. 

I'll read the Bible with a garden spade. 
For hosts of seedling thoughts a^e growing 

Transplanted to my life, they give me shade. 
And healthful fruit, and flowers richly fair. 

I'll read the Bible with a light-poised boat. 
With crowding sail or with a laboring oar, 

For it has many a fairy-land remote. 
And many winding channels to explore. 

I'll read the Bible with a miner's pick, 

For deep in solid rock its wealth is found ; 

But ah, the secret veins are rich and thick. 
And glorious Eldorados here abound. 

All instruments, all modes of eager quest. 
Find here their recompense of high reward. 

Find here the wisest, worthiest, and best. 
The free and waiting treasures of the Lord. 


The day was darkly drear 

Till you were in it. 
But sunlight splendored clear 

That very minute. 

The world was dull and bare. 

No birds a-winging ; 
You came, and all the air 

Was full of singing. 

The world was sleet and storm, 

A wintry mummer ; 
You came, and tender, warm. 

The world was summer ! 


[Written as the United States was about to 
enter the W^orld War.] 

My Country ! dare we do it ? Dare we be 
Strong with our strength and with our free- 
dom free. 
Commensurate with the measure of our land, 
And boldly equal to our destiny? 

No arms but arms of love should lift the 

Those only war by whom it is abhorred. 
Those only kill whose choice would be to die. 
And none should fight but battle for the Lord. 

Are our eyes keen to see His form alone? 
Our ears to hear His solemn undertone? 
And all our hearts untiringly alert 
His high behest and none but His to own ? 

Rather than wrong the men of meanest birth, 
Home least of nations least in honest worth. 
Be all our glorious land for evermore 
Cursed and erased from off the scornful earth ! 

Rather than swagger through a boastful hour. 
Drunken with pride and mad with murderous 



Let U8 walk feebly as the cravena walk. 
And let ua hide ouraelvea aa cravena cower. 

One hundred milliona! Dare we acan the 

And take their regal meaning to our aoula? 
Dare we asaume the aceptre of ouraelvea 
And away the power that itaelf controla? 

We that love Liberty, ahall we aa well 
Grant Liberty in other landa to dwell. 
Nor use her aacred name to garniah deeda 
Aa foul aa Satan and aa black aa hell? 

We that the nationa all have Joined to frame, 
Can we be true to theae from whence we came, 
Yet nouriah for the darkneaa of the world 
In common purpoae one clear-ahining flame? 

Can we. diacovering that we are atrong. 
Remember Freedom'a oath and Freedom'a aong, 
And wear our atrength in that humility 
And calm forbearance that to atrength belong? 

Then, then, my Country, let ua dare to be 
Strong with our atrength and with our free- 
dom free, 
Commenaurate with the meaaure of our land, 
And boldly equal to our destiny ! 


NESTing, nesting, you and I, 
EST-imating what to buy, 
8T-ealing now and then a kiaa. 
Tip and top of human blisa ! 
N-ot a worry or a fear, 
NF^ar or far with you, my dear ! 
NEK-cience to heaven nigh ; 
NESTing, nesting, you and I. 


Where waves a line of larger growth,- 

SubHidiary bluet, — 
There shines the spirit of an oath. 

And Hcarce would rue it 

For high is hope and loKt is low, 

And swift commotion 
In burie<l vastly in the slow 

Remorseless ocean. 

Intent upon the bourgeoning bough — 

Ecstatic moment ! — 
How heed the Everlasting Now? 

How reck the comment? 

So self Involved and Intricate 

Beyond all seeming. 
We pass to capture and narrate 

Anacreon'a dreaming. 

Inveterate line of larger growth I 

Alaa, Lord Gilbert ! 
I knew no spirit of an oath. 

Nor cared a filbert. 


The mirror of the times ! In golden frame 
Or homely wood, its honor is the same. 

A mirror, not a lamp of pulaing light ; 
A mirror, uaeleaa in a moral night. 

But if ita back is scratched by carelennesa. 
And if ita face is cracked by crude exccaa. 

Foul with the breath of greed, or maddled o'er 
With bigot*a paaaion and with party gore. 

Though fair ita frame and Jewelled ita 

It la the moat repulaive thing in town ! 


Don't write poetry (ao called). 

Don't be bumptioua. don't get bald, 

I>on't be quick to give advice. 

Don't fear thunder, ghosts, or mice. 

Don't talk symptoms of disease. 

Don't expectorate or sneexe, 

I>on*t get angry, don't ahow off. 

Don't snore, or contradict, or cough, 

I>on't hit a fellow not your sise. 

Don't be too soft, don't be too wiae. 

Don't bolt your food, don't use much meat* 

Don't undersleep or overeat. 

Don't worry, hurry, loaf, or fret. 

Don't get it charged or run in debt. 

Don't, when in error, fear to own *t. 

And don't, don't, don't, don't, don't ny don't f 


Bethlehem hills that aolemn night 
Softly beheld a golden sight. 
Thrilled to a burHt of holy aound : 
'Olory to Ood in the forthe§t height,. 

Peace on earth 

To men of trorth. 
Men in tchom Ood'a grace is found!" 

Ever haa that angelic lay 
Widened over the earth away ; 
Still the quivering echoes run 
From Uatening night to llatenlng day- 
"Peace, peace, peace," 
They never cease. 
Broadening oot from sun to aon. 



Now, through the miracle of time. 
In every land, in every clime. 
Whispering low in the pulsing air 
Soun<l8 that Bethlehem chant sublime, 

Singing still 

Of man's good will 
And the heavenly Father's peaceful care. 

How can we reach and catch the song? 
How, in our Babel of wrath and wrong, 
Can we capture the holy strain again 
That has wandered far, so far and long. 

On land and sea 

So far and free : 
"Peace on earth and good will to men**t 

Hushed in the dawning of love's great light. 
Brothers all in the angels' sight. 
Some glad day we shall catch the sound : 
*'Olorp to Ood in the farthest height. 
Peace on earth 
To men of tcorth. 
Men in whwn Ood'8 grace ia found t" 


I think I shall find measures to postpone 
The glories of the universal throne, 
The choirs of flaming seraphim, the tall 
And glittering wonders of the jewelled wall. 

I shall get leave to find a little home 
Where one has waited long till I should come, 
And all the heart of heaven shall be this. 
Once more, once more to feel my mother's 


Failure is a rocky hill : 

Climb it ! CUmb it with a wUl I 

Failure is a broken bone : 

Set it ! Grin, and do not groan ! 

Failure is a tangled string : 
Puzzle out the knotted thing ! 

Failure is a river swift : 

Swim it ! Swim, and do not drift ! 

Failure is a black morass : 

Cross it ! There are tufts of grass ! 

Failure is a treacherous pit: 
Scramble ! Clamber out of it ! 

Failure is an inky night : 

Sing ! Expect the morning light ! 

Failure is an ugly coal : 
Fuse it to a diamond sool I 


Somewhere are words of eager loveliness 

Whose high compelling stress 
Will wake the world to courage, and inspire 

Honor's undying fire. 

And they, when found, will be our common 

That man's life undergirds ; 
So common, so familiar, each will sigh, 

**I might have said them — //" 


[On reading William Roscoe Thayer's "The 
Life and Times of Cavour."] 

The morning light is fair upon his face. 
The morning fervor pulses in his blood. 
For he has seen the form of Italy 
Rise from the virginal shadows of the Alps, 
And sweep through Piedmont, Florence, down 

to Rome 
And on to Sicily. All beautiful 
That queenly vision, and he bows to it. 
And knows henceforth the sovereign of his 


How blest his lot ! What matter priestly 

Cabals of court and lies of diplomats, 
Mouthings of demagogues, the agony 
Of cruel slander and of long delay? 
He has his vision and is true to it. 

And yet how hard the path of a Cavour, 

A knight of patience ! Flags fly not for him. 

Nor bugles blow, nor multitudes applaud. 

Not his the swing of marching myriatls. 

The glorious dash of Garibaldian war. 

Nor even hot Mazzini's prophet peals 

And melodrama of delusive plots. 

Where he would run, he must be slow to 

creep ; 
Where he would shout his slogan to the skies. 
Must whisper it; where he would smite the 

Of Italy, fierce crashings in the face. 
He must dissemble, smile, and eat his heart. 

Ah, lordliest of all our mortal range. 
The self-sufficing mind ! that stands alone 
And bends all other creatures to itself; 
That holds to truth and right immovably ; 
That uses gold and armies, senates, kings, 
Or poverty and loneliness and God ; 
That reckons not the years nor gauges gain, 
But works with cosmic force impersonal, 
A dateless task, unhurried and serene. 

He counted not his foes : or Austrian craft, 
The Pope's denunciations, Bourbon pride. 



Napoleon's ambitioD8« English heed 

That would and would not, or the stinging 

Of little hinderers that swarmed at home. 
He moved among them an nnwrinkled fate. 
He worked among them as the rays of light 
Reach the dim comers of the woods and fields 
With quiet, chemic power, touching seeds. 
Enkindling life, and waking up the world. 
He did not sign his deeds. Ue did not form 
A pompous programme. As the days evolved. 
So answered he, day's might for day's de- 

He placed the crown upon another's brow. 
Yet could not wholly fend it from his own. 
For what are crowns, and what are monu- 

And all the tinsel gauds of clumsy fame. 
But man's fair gauge of man's ineptitude. 
And prophecy of Juster fame to come? 

When souls are charactered by character, 
W^hen worth is honor, highest worth renown. 
And all the devil's cloaks are torn away. 
Then, Prince of Patience, you must mount 

your throne. 
And then, while hosts acclaim, "Cavour! 

Cavour :" 
Your voice will shout one answer, "Italy !" 
Your crown will blase one splendor, "Italy !" 
Your heart will plead one purpose, "Italy !" 
For thus are nations born in souls of men. 


He was personally fatuous and horrid. 

He was ugly, b** was cruel, he was mean. 
His talk was dialH>lk'aIly torrid. 

He was Just about the crudest ever seen ; 
But his paper run the universe to suit it, 

Censor<Hi architecture. |H>etry. and art ; 
As to K<'Qlns. did not hesitate to boot it. 

While it settled all affairs of home and 

He was wallowing In debt up to the limit. 

He was hatt*<l by biH ni'ltfhlHtrii and hlH wife. 
He was in the social mwIui but c(»uUln't swim 

He bad made a total failure of his life ; 
But in print be whh a miiHter of tinances. 

Pointed out the many wavN the tariff rol)s. 
lA>d statlNticH through tb<> iiitrlcatest danci's. 

And sbuwtHi the KtateMUien how to run 
their Jobs. 

Oh, the printing-press is wonderfully clever ; 

As a miracle machine It's out (»f Night ; 
It can take a chap who is the lowest ever. 

And transform him to a minister of light. 

It can squeeze eternal wisdom from a ninny. 

To a Washington an Arnold can convert : 
It can change Petroleum Nasby to a Pliny. 

And contrive a handsome dividend from 


[Versifying a sentence by Dr. G. Campbell 
Morgan. ] 

Preacher, facing needy souls. 

Do not dare ignore them. 
While God's fateful thunder rolls. 

And you preach — before them ; 
Rather, finding out their need. 

Piercing through and through them. 
Though they shrink and though they bleed. 

Preach your sermons — to them. 

It is easy to parade. 

Fling your knowledge o'er them. 
Preaching sermons study-made 

Pompously — before them ; 
But the sermons that will bless 

Through and through and through them. 
From your heart to theirs, — no less. — 

Are the ones preached — to them. 


When we write a note to him 

Full of our desires 
For a doll that shuts Its eyes. 

And a gun that fires; 
When we hang our stockings up 

By the chimney side, — 
Stockings long and very large. 

(taping oi)en wide : 
When we Iteg to watch awhile. 

Still as we can l>e. — 
It is Santa Clans, of course. 

We exp«»ct to see. 

When we let the houseboUl know 

Christmas Day has come. 
Blowing oil the new cornet. 

lUinglng on the drum : 
When we eat the oranges. 

Candy, turkey, pies; 
When on Jolly Jumfier Hill 

The double runner flies ; 
When we have the Invnt of times 

All of Christmas Day. 
It is go<Nl Kriss Kringlf. then. 

JolUH us In our pluy. 

Wlien tbt> canilleM glittrr bright 

On the Christ mas tn>e. 
With the spangles and the stars 

Wonderful to see ; 



When the people crowd the room, 

And the children sing, 
And from out the belfry high 

Christmas carols ring; 
When they give the presents round, 

Then all go away. 
That Is kind Saint Nicholas 

Finishing the day. 

Ah, but when It all is done. 

And I go to bed, 
Drums and sleds and pies and trees 

Jumbled in my head. 
Then the little mother comes 

Just to say good-night. 
And she tells how shepherds once 

Saw a glorious light. 
And a Babe that came to earth 

With a thought of — me ; 
And I think the Christmas saint, 

After all, is He ! 


Too tired to pray ! O Father, tired of toiling. 
Tired of the heavy load, the blistering way, 

Wt^ary of all the monotone of moiling. 
Tired out — too tired to pray. 

Too sad to pray ! undone, my Ood, with 

The same dull heartache borne another 
My life an empty field of worthless rubble, 
And I — too sad to pray. 

Too sinful — yes, for any further praying. 
Too proud to hear, too wicked to obey. 

Loathing the desert path, yet ever straying. 
And gone too far to pray. 

O Christ, pray for me! Weary, sad, in si- 

My impotence at Thy dear feet I lay. 
Jesus, my final Help, my All-rellance, 

I*ray — for I cannot pray ! 


Others weary of the noise. 
Mothers play with girls and boys. 

Others scold because we fell. 
Mothers "kiss and make it well." 

Others work with patient will. 
Mothers labor later still. 

Others' love is more or less. 
Mothers love with steadiness. 

Others pardon, hating yet ; 
Mothers pardon and forget. 

Others keep the ancient score. 
Mothers never shut the door. 

Others grow incredulous, 
Mothers still believe in us. 

Others throw their faith away, 
Mothers pray, and pray, and pray. 


What farms and factories produce 
And art and commerce boast, 

AH things of beauty and of use. 
We send by parcel post. 

Confectionery, sweaters, mats. 
Shoes, clocks, a steak, a roast, 

Bggs, pictures, aprons, pickles, hats 
All, all by parcel post ! 

Preserves by grandma's finest rule. 
The cake that Bob likes most, 

A box of "eats" for Bess at school— 
Ah, homely parcel post ! 

The waking up of enterprise 
To reach the farthest coast. 

That he who sells and he who buys 
May bless the parcel post ! 

The binding of the shop and farm. 
And all our nation's host, — 

Oh, it can reach a long, long arm. 
This friendly parcel post ! 

So here's to Uncle Sam, P. M., 

A universal toast : 
Columbia wears another gem. 

The shining parcel post ! 


In the Eden I'd like to build 

There's a wealth of library nooks; 
There are thousands of shelves and all of 
them filled 

With an orderly orgy of books. 
And lest the dear number appall 

Even one most bookish ly willed. 
There's wideness of leisure to read them all 

In the Eden I'd like to build. 

In the Eden I'm wanting to make 

There's a woman loving and fair. 
The world is aglow for her beautiful sake. 

Her presence blesses the air. 
Tet often there comes to me 

This thought like a hissing snake : 
Will the books and the woman perchance agree 

In the Eden I'm wanting to make? 


The nlpns prolonRHl thelt BOd 

To tornul parallela of brick am 
The mradowi, Uahed bj man; 



Da; br day 

The treacberoua braacbei where tbe eoosBt 

Tbe manbes' dull mlaama*. atiit (be craih 
Of deaolattng landillpi ; wbat are thrfJ 
For not alone Ibc (iDiteT- pointed crime. 
TbIck-palDled luai aod murder maalfeat 
Parade tbe dijr gtreeVs, to nioek with Bin 
Tbe wont the outlaw wuodlaE 


The petrlfj-lnR "iirl . 

My bendlnK wlUowa aa* their toodful marah 

Slip Into dralna. Thr furrow, meHow-drawo, 

Became a nolaouie RUtter. Sacred wooda, 

Bared to tbe mocking and Irreverent dajr. 

Broadened their ihuddcrlnK pillars Into homea 

For men that tortured tbrm. The vrr; hllla 

Abaaed the quiet sceptre of their plnea 

Bunk In the ronquerlug plain. The hermlt- 

idrrw lietore the i 

I chattering 




■ring, like a 

llere a church 
Ape* with Ita formal arch a forrat alale. 
Yonder a Bplre.  aharp and ntlffened thing. 
Accoata the sky ai oner a Kfacloua tree 
Toaaed from that place Ita greeting to tbe 

Earth baked and reddened. In huge hideoua- 


a lowering honeycomb at brick. 

Still In III' 

The (unny 

Hanked and hlrd-frequenled hill. 


Amoni the 

burrj-lnjj wlieela the rewiiboya flit. 

Pert like 

And lo : u 

The harmi 

•■■ make lay tiaaklDK In thi- (un 

Dana like 

an adder'! rang the brandled air. 

A rod of 1 

wo ouleuraea many a league 

or count r 

a worat. Ued eyea In ahadowy 

n thes 


otherly from out a 

Shielded the undrrgruwlh. nor ever dreamed 
That one ahould drink the rain that fell on 

iwth of lelflgh-g 

lapllng.— hei^. behold! 
Iiclr brutbera from the 

Uen whoae lupreme of high accompllahment 
la to aurround a single fattened trunk 
With Ufeleaa acrea. yea. with league on league 
Reaerred far roolloga of that tre4 atone. 

A thouaand lives bound to the whim of ooe. 
A thouaand faint that one may orerteed. — 
Discern the parable of earth and iky : 
The treea that calmly lift their emerald tow- 

And push their white petltlona through tbe 


Far to the answering Julcea, with no fear 
That guile or greed will slay their livelihood 
And tear them from their toll ; tbe headlong 

That revels In the summer treasurlea. 

Nor has compelltor* In h oney -craft 1 

The peaceful ranks of unmoleated elouda^ 

That bear untretled on their even way 

Karh hla appointed burden, hienedly 

Hure of the bleaaisl lienlson of work. 

That DO ciild corporation of the air. 

At bint of prcuure on Us plethoric purae 

Dismissing half Its cloudy aervllora. 

Will ahrewdly HVe Ita surplus with their alL 

Shame that the willing labor of a man 

Should he leas stable than the nlmy cloud's ! 

And ahame that an Immartal'* chaore to toll 

Sbotild be lea certain thaa epheowrids' I 

And Btrange, and itrange. and ptteoDiIjr 

Thai. taclDg nicb abode ot cultured weaKb. 
The iitn>ct abuulil all be full ot pallid men. 
And warn en weary-eyed and eblldren gaunt. 
Tbelr bands oulutretcbed to beg ttaejr know 

Yet bere, amid tbeae itlea of MlQahoeas, 
Tbese atlea of marble or ot eommon brick, 
Some traBranee at the toreat llngera atUl. 
Bome touch of woodland majealy and (race- 
Deep In an ugly blocli 1 know a bome 
Wbence, like a aprlng from out a bank at 

Flow benedUllons ot large klndlloeaa 
And nolile IhlnklnK. Yonder el his trade 
Painfully drudges an Imperial man, 
A man of oak. erect to bar tbe caurae 
Of any vnKue Inlqully. nor how 
Tbougb all the iky la full of thunderbolts. 
Here, from tbe loweat deeps ot bitter lite, 
I see a aplrlt titled on a bill 
Fronting tbe eaat and crowned with morning 

Carrying balm, heboid. Ibe kindly rich : — 
Their Bold for giving, and their charity 
The better gold ot manly brotherhood. 
Ah, when I sep Ibis dawning commonwealth, 
Too dim. loo far. but growing with the yeara : 
Yea. wben I learn what royalty la bere 
Amid the outcast, what a wealth of worth 
Amiing Ibe poor, and what a lovellneaa 
nr patlont. cheery living In these homes 
Bo barren to Ibe eye. oh. then I know 
Tbe oltT's glory and the city's grace. 
OulforcHtlng the woodlands In ita Joy. 
Paaaing In fnilttulncaa the golden flelds- 

To this end died tbe country into town, — 
Not that the press of groaning buman IItcb 
Serre for a mint to stamp a ricb man's gold ; 
Hut blessedly, that men In brotherhood 
May make a better country of tbe town,^ 
The teeming soil ot philanthropic thought, 
The atmosphere of hope, the kindly rain 
Ot sympathetic tears, such flower and Irnlt 
As grew In paradise before tbe Ull 

Pat may It spread, this country ot (he town I 
Spread till the current ot H nobler lite 
Rise In our human veins: till brick and stone 
Have lost the memory ot sobs, and learned 
The largeness ot tbe woodland ; till the right — 
The kingly right— of toll K  

Than ever forest gave to any tree ; 
Till all men live tor one, and all for all. 
And no man [or himself, tbe city's soul 
Leaping above the flelds from Hblch It grew. 
The self -concentred flelda, the grasping roots ; 
Leaping above as far as man Is blgb 

Above the fear-flUed begging of a man. 
O brothers, here amid the clanging streets 
And clashing voices and contending alms. 
Be bold to live a lite beyond your lite ! 
Tbe palace may Invite, the bank allure. 
But mac li more than ease and Ood than gold ! 
Witbin tbe smoking nilna of a wood 
Seeds of another forest He la wait. 
Of dlfterlng nature, pine succeeding oak 
Or hircbes. pine. And so the country dies. 
Burned over by tbe city's greedy ttames- 
Now — grant it, God : and grant It, godly 

Let other toreata from Its ashes leap. 
A second growth of more majestic form. 
Like to the trees ot lite that tower Knd 


A crowd Is such a weary, hopeless tbing 

Tin I can trace 
Somewhere amid Its drift and bnrrylng 

Tbe one dear face : 
Then leaps the crowd to meaning and to llt^ 

And that dead sea 
Of alien purposes and foreign strife 

A task Is barren till In ita design 

The Inspiration and the conrage One 
0( that dear face. 



And then the pallid duty Buddeo glows, 

As roses run 
Across a lonely mountain's reach of snows. 

Touched by the sun. 

Triumph itself is empty, cold, and bare 

Of warmth and grace. 
Till I discern amid the wreaths and blare 

The one dear face. 
Then am I humbly glad and kingly proud. 

Achieving this. 
And wait impatient till I am allowed 

Uer crown — a kiss. 

Ah, heaven itself but half a heaven will be, 

A longing place. 
Until amid its loveliness I see 

The one dear face. 
Then angel throngs remote will flash to 

And I shall bide. 
Where>r my blest eternity extends. 

So satisfied. 


At the top of a slope a pebble lay, 

At the top of a sandy dune ; 
And he sung to himself In a lordly way. 

To a slow and majestic tune : 

**Oh. I am the king of the tieach below. 

That curves to the north and the south ; 
And 1 am the king uf the boats that go 
To the busy harbor's mouth. 

"Yes. I am the king of the swaying tide. 

And the waves that lightly race; 
And 1 am the king of the ocean wide 
To the very end of Mpace." 

The pebble looked down from his outlook 
On u utone at tho foot of the itlope. 
••poor on-atur*'," said ho. "of a lower sphere, 
i.'ondemu«Hi to grovel and grope. 

"But pome are made to lie Htately and grave. 
And Mime are born to obey. 
As yonder Ntoiu> wan made for a slave. 
And I wan iKini to hold sway." 

A Uiy Juft then, with a kirk of hlii toe. 

t<**iit the Htone iM>me Inrhew anlde. 
And down forthwith, reluctant and slow, 

The cliff began to glide. 

Higher and higher the movements reach 
On the diine'M iite«'p '<ioiting face. 

Till they touch «iur peblde of lordly Speech, 
And draw It d<»wn to the base. 

There it lies by the side of the stone. 
And It has not a word to say 

About the folks who are born to a throne. 
And the folks who are bom to obey. 


What Is the pun that auto be 
Drowned In Oblivion's deepest 
The pun that auto skid away 
And hide till Doom's remotest day? 
It's this. 

What is the pun that auto meet 
A fatal puncture on the street? 
llie pun that auto be condemned 
And lose its license to offend ? 
It's this. 

What is the pun that auto steer 
Far, far away from human ear? 
The autocratic pun designed 
For an autopsy of the mind? 
It's this. 

What is the pun that auto pass 
Beyond the farthest tank of gasT 
The cranky pun that auto go 
A-turning turtle down below? 
This one. 


Memorial Day. 1912. 

Who shall march with the veteran band, 
TheHe who Ma\iHl a united land. 
These our heroes humble and grand. 

Who shall march with the soldiers? 

Yon. the boyn who will soon l>e men. 
Soldier dutiew will yours In* then. 
Fight Ing wrong in It* dttrk«»»»t den. — 

Fall in. and march with the soldiers ! 

You, the mothers of day* to Ih», 
You in wh<»He hand Im the future's key. 
You who will train the brave and the fre«« 
Fall In. and march with the soldiers! 

You. the makers of worthy laws. 
lUtld to lead in a rIghteouM cauM*. 
Deaf to falsehood and vain applause. 

Fall in. and march with the soldiers! 

You. the workers whow* ateady toll 
Wrenchew wealth from the mine and soil. 
VIctorH who gather a hl<NHn<*i«s Kpoil. 

Fall in, and march with the soldiers! 



Tou, all teachers of truth and right. 
You, all preachern of love and light, 
All who are fighting the people's flght« 
Fall in, and march with the soldiers ! 


Millions of birds fly south, 

Millions of birds return ; 
Across the high uncharted seas 

Millions of ways they learn. 

And through the millions ^^f ways 

Two birds return to me. 
Finding the same old hollow boufl^ 

In the same old apple-tree. 

• • • 

And there are millions of girls? 

My love, it may be true. 
What wonder that, among them all, 

1 came to you ! 


Fragments of being, mystically flung 

Forth from safety, from tenderness. 
Unequal and young, 

Into the surge and the brutal stress. 

How can you ever guess, 
Proud sons. 
The trembling love that pursues you, 

That silent and secretly runs 
Far behind you and stretches its hands and 

W0O8 you? 
How can you think the stupid thought 
Of the past, which is less than naught 

In your forward minds. 
Eagerly bent on aclventurous ways. 
On the teasing, beautiful path that winds 
Through mysterious, challenging days 
To the unseen Joy and the unheard praise? 
Yours is the future ; yours is the glory to 

When the sphinx's lips arc no longer dumb. 
When the gates of the city are open wide, 

When the leaping tide 
Of music and fragrance and power has caught 
the world. 

And the flag of the soul, unfurled. 

Floats free. free, free. 
Over the Jubilant land and the farthest sea. 

If you could know 
The toilsome way you must go. 

If a seer could foretell 
The darkness, the anguish, the horrors of hell 
Barring the path of your beautiful dreams. 

If the prudent could show 
How empty and vain are the cheating gleams 

That beckon you on. 
Then the magic of youth were gone. 

The wonder and glory of youth, 
Proudly spurning the pitiful truth. 
And giving itself, with abandonment splen- 
didly wise. 
To the inflnite sureness of lies ! 
For these are sons. 
These creatures that break with reason and 
These daring, impossible ones. 
That do not think but act. 
And nothing less is the meaning, the func- 
tion of sons. 
The wrench away. 
The folly that shuns 
Hindrance of helpful hands. 
That crudely stands 
Masterful, shamelessly gay. 
Shouting his own fierce No and bis new glad 
And we who doubt. 
Shake our heads at the mocking and irritant 
Mutter the maxims of years. 
Talk with our fears, 
Catch at the flying robes of our Jubilant one. 
Ah, let us pause and remember with sudden 
That the mystic law 
Of sundering, futureward sundering, reaches 

to Him 
Who sees eternity's outermost rim. 
Who knows all hours of his endless day, 
As the inflnite, eddying currents run. 
Yet dared to send on his separate way 
A gallant Being of love and light 

To scorn the past. 
To grasp at empty dreams and hold them fast. 
To mock at fears and achieve the impossible 
For God has a Son ! 


I'm hot with love, and yet my skies 
So brightly shine in Betty's eyes. 
Though all the cooling breezes blow 
I would not have it otherwise. 

I'm burdened with my love, weighed down 
With Betty's least-considered frown ; 
And yet the burden is so dear 
I bear it proudly as a crown. 

I'm weary with my love, so long 
Have I chased Betty through the throng ; 
But ah, the following is so sweet, 
I still pursue her with a song. 

I'm quite disheartened, Betty's curls 
80 toss me in their maelstrom whirls ; 
But yet I'd rather fail of her 
Than win a thouHind other girls. 




They are dwelling* of comfort and rest, 

80 easily, frlendlUy worn ; 
They have faHhloned a leathery nest 

For each Individual corn. 

By many a brotherly mile 

They have molded themselves to my feet» 
Submitting their angles the while 

Till the union is fair and complete. 

They have known how to want or abound, 
Ilavo cared not for blacicing and pride. 

And have suffered full many a wound 
With me as their negligent guide. 

What gay n^collections they share 

Of sweet-plodding league after league. 

Fern foreMts. and glittering air, 
And honest, contented fatigue! 

I have brought them and they have brought 

Thus far on an intricate road. 
And though they are homely to see. 

They deserve a congratulant ode. 

And I fear me the Golden Street 

(The Scriptures I would not abuse) 

Will not feel just right to my feet 
Unless I can wear my old shoes. 


I love the red, and white, and blue. 

The gleaming colors of Old Glory, 
Not only for the record true 

Of proud Columbia's shining story. 
Not for our reddened hearths alone. 

Not for our skies of azure beauty. 
Not for the white hands of our own 

That bind our souls to home and duty. 

But love I these — white, blue, and red, — 

Because on all the flags of nations 
These hues are oftenest outspread 

For loyalty's high salutations; 
Because the Frenchman l>ows to these. 

Because the Briton loves them dearly. 
Because to Norse and Portuguese 

They speak familiarly and clearly ; 

Be<*ause, with forms that vary far. 

With rising sun and haughty eagle. 
With cross and cres<*ent. shield and star. 

With flephant and Hon regal. 
Yet. in the nieilley of design. 

Where birth and fortune would dissever, 
Dear re<l and white and blue combine 

To fus4' the flags of earth together. 

The Ihjtchman holds those colors fair. 

The Hun. the (ireek, the Jap, the German. 

Swede, Swiss, Turk, Buaalan, — ■ometblas 

Preaches the patriotic sermon. 
Some color of Columbia's three 

To her adopted sons and daughters 
Tells of their hc»mes across the sea. 

And disannuls the sundering waters. 

But oh, bright banner, dearly mine. 

I hold you yet but half completed ; 
And still the hope of your design 

Is half delayed or half defeated. 
But you. my flag of union, you 

Will wave to all flags as their fellow. 
If to the rod and white and blue 

You add the black, and green, and yellow 1 

Black, for the sturdy German race ; 

Green for old Ireland's singing meadows, 
And Italy's remembered grace 

Of tender skies and storied shadows ; 
And yellow for the Spaniard brave. 

For Swede and Norse and Austrian broth- 
Ay. and across the western wave 

For yellow sons of Mongol mothers! 

Room for the yellow, black, and green 

In the broad banner of Old <Slory ! 
Three stripes — what marvels would they mean. 

The close of earth's unfriendly story I 
A rainbow banner, like the bow 

Of promise in the skies above us. 
When all the nations come to know 

And frankly trust and aid and love ut ! 


True touchstone lives are these, and teat our 
Such years as Judson spent, and Patteaoo, 
Moffat and Carey, (tilmour, Ilannlngton. 
Martyn the saint, and (;ardlner th» bold. 
Brainenl and Livingstone. — ah, who has told 
In titling speech the deeds these men haTO 

IWeats endured and gallant battles woo. 
Their pains and prayers and patience mani- 
They sttMHl In the front of the world, and all 
They fought the dismal flends of outer 
Chanted their battle hymns, and made bo 
When giMMls, health, love, fell from tlicB 
in the flght. 
They fought in the front of the world, and 

we. the blind. 
Think we find health, and wealth, and fame — 
behind ! 


r tl]« veiMm bilt ; 

cb11dr«D inusglMl In awMome bedi. 
Dd trembled to btti my Bboul ; 
I rel It was pl«aup(, ao ule wltbln, 
mBrrellaus wild wltbout. 

D awar From the town I flung tnyielt, 

I bid the torcb In mj loldi of tsId, 
Till sudden 1 gbowed [t« glare ; 

I plunged Ibe dirk Id tbe thick of thi 
ADd splintered a pine- tree there. 

I came and I went at the beck d( the Lord, 

The Lord of Btorma and at men, 
AdiI I crouch In mj care al the end ot th« 

Till He beckons me (ortb asain. 

And ruahed o'er the weatera plain. 

e at two of tbe village clock, 
And racPil through Ibe empty atreet. 

hed Ibe bougbi of tbe arching elma, 
And the high church tower I beat. 

[ my rain throngb tbe ahlngled roots 
Aud Into tbe window — iBunl 
Tbe nlgbtgowoed folk with tbelr fllmmerlng 

Hurried aroond thp hoDK. 


Rudyard Kipling, one Impatient day, 
rew a scrap ot maunacrlpt swaj, — 
BlDce no worthy workman dares to rest 
With the good, but only wltb the best. 
Now. the poet thus should guard his art, 
But bla wife may play a dllterent part. 
Hit with critic eye to scan bli lays : 
Heri wltb cheering flattery to pralae. 
80 II chanced — a Incky chance. Indeed !— 
Mistress Kipling found tbe abandoned screed ; 



Drew it from the waste, and praised it well, 
Till the bard fulfilled the miracle, 
Till the poem, polished to a t, 
SboDe, the jewel of the Jubilee ; 
Till it glittered to the eyes of all, 
Kipling's star-coDceiTed Recessional. 

Now, dear wife, sweet mistress of mj home. 

Who, with vandal dusting-cloth and broom. 

Oft desire my study to Invade, 

Yes, and sometimes a descent have made, 

8orting papers into ordered piles. 

Clearing pigeon-holes and filling files. 

Sweeping, dusting, with a woman's grace 

Putting everything in proper place 

And where I can never, never find It, — 

Come, now, wife, hereafter I'll not mind it ! 

Bring along your weapons of dismay ! 

Rearrange my study every day ! 

Now no more the littered picturesque : 

Here's the key and freedom of my desk. 

And — I whisper this in modesty — 

If some day your vigilance should see — 

If, in your acute domestic round. 

You should find what Mistress Kipling found — 

If-~0 well, the upshot of it is, 

Mif — waste-basket — is as good as his! 


Not only where the universal mind 

In leafy sport and iridescent play. 
With color, furni, and fragrances combined. 
Creates a Muiumer day, — 

Not only in the driftings of the sky. 

The sunny hearteil shadow of the tree. 
The brooklet's glimmer as it hurries by, 
(tod's glory may I see ; 

Rut look : a radiant sunrise in the soul ! 

And se<' ! the foliaged graces of content ! 
And hark ! the harmonit'H that over-roll 
A spirit's continent ! 

No beauty of the earth or m»a or air. 

That Hill};** or unduIat«>M or Hoftly gleams. 
Hut faInT far and ondloosly more fair 
Lies in the land of dreams. 

What wi^ht that seeM Niagara, and goes 

IliiMhtMr and with awful n»verence, but, 
A U«M*|MT. nion* in)|H>tU(>UH torr«»nt knows.- - 
Th»' i-ntarart of nln ? 

What niiitbrr. wh<>H<* onrapturiHl ntudy spells 

Each dimple of the bn)M' nhe bends above. 
Hut (Tadl«il In her gracioUM iNiHom dwells 
The •'weeter birth of love? 

My tender ('barleM with many a shadowed 
Winds in long leagut*?* of beauty to the sea. 

And all its mirrored delicacies serve 
A constant feast to me ; 

But by its side throughout the happy year 

Flows level and serene a human life. 
The holy lovelinesses pure and clear 
Of daughter, mother, wife. 

And ever from the world of painted form, 

Howe*er its shifting phantasies allure, 
I turn me to her welcome, quick and warm 
And marvellously sure. 

Here is the truth, were all besides a lie : 

Yea, here is heaven, were all besldea a bell ; 
And here, in thought and word, dear Lore 
and I 

Forever more shall dwelL 


Why does the sun shine? Just to discloae, — 
There where It laughs, where it hovers and 
lingers, — 

All of the dimples of dear Baby Rose, 

Sweetness of eyes and of lips and of flngerm. 

Why does the moon shine ? Simply to show, — 
Lit by a long line of motherly light, — 

Curls of gold hair in the glimmer aglow. 
Little white arm on a counterpane white. 

Why do the stars shine? To light on tbeir 

Relays of angels that tenderly press. 
Guarding the bed till the dawning of day. 

Bringing a blessing with every 

Ah. but the shining of dear mother's eyes ! 

Why is that shining? Because they cao go 
Deeper than sun. moon, or stars, and surprise 

Sweet baby secrets no other can know ! 


On New Year's day you started in 
With heart of grace absolve<l from sin. 
With forward look, with purpose true* 
And all the world was fair to you. 

But soon the devil found a crack 
And pierctHl your armor, front or back; 
And S4M>n. your conduct past excuse. 
You sadly cried, "Oh. what's the use?** 

Brother ! the wheellngii of the sun 
In endleKs hopeful circles run : 
They wweep iM»r<»nely through the air. 
And you may start from anywhere. 

For ronimon use we count the year 
From one Mole point in Its career ; 

G. A. R. TO A. E. F. 


But yoa, adopt a lordly tone. 
And fix a year that'8 all your own ! 

Adopt this very day and hour 
As genesis of hope and power. 
Forget the failures left behind. 
And on the future fix your mind. 

Break with the follies of the past ! 
Master your weaknesses at last ! 
Stiffen your muscles ! Watch and pray ! 
Stoutly begin a year to-day ! 


Why white, O White House? 

That your creed 
Be purity in word and deed ; 
That all the nations of the earth 
May trust your simple, honest worth ; 
That pride may have no entrance here, 
Nor greed nor selfishness appear. 
And low ambition find no place 
In this abode of simple grace. 

Why white, O White House? 

That your peace 
May flourish and may never cease ; 
That, though the parties shout and fight, 
Here may be calm and steady light ; 
That, though all nations madly clash. 
Here may a spirit never rash, 
A temperate and friendly mind, 
Deal righteously with all mankind. 

Why white. O White House? 

Make it clear 
'Tis not that white betokens fear, — 
White fiag. the sign of dire distress. 
White feather, coward worthlessness I 
No ! be your purity arrayed 
With power to make its rule obeyed ; 
And may your peace uphold the right. 
Because so mighty for a fight ! 


What is a man? A bit of clay 
The rain dissolves and fioats away ; 

A diamond of lustre rare. 
Forever firm, forever fair ; 

A bubble dancing on the stream. 
An empty film, a bursting gleam ; 

A king upon a dateless throne. 
With all eternity his own ; 

A mockery of love and hate. 

The play of time, the sport of fate; 

The conqueror of endless life. 
Victorious in every strife ; 

Compact of virtue and of sin. 
Creation's matchless harlequin ; 

And each of these, in devious plan. 
Discernible In every man ! 

Why, what Superior Scientist, 
What Erudite Anatomist, 

Could pick these creatures from the bog. 
And classify and catalogue? 


A merry young breeze found a delicate loom. 
And his labor was more like play, * 

But he wove me a charm and he wove me a 
From the heart of a summer day. 

He wove it of clouds, and a thrush's call. 
And the breath of a blossom fair ; 

But oh ! the warp and the woof of it all 
Was the wisp of a maiden's hair! 

And though you should harness the talons of 

And tear at it ever and aye. 
You could not break the web of the spell 

That was woven that summer day ! 

O. A R. to A. E. F. 

[Written when the United States sent her 
first troops to the World War.] 

Hope and Promise of the nation. 

Expeditionary Force, 
For Democracy's salvation 

And Autocracy's remorse. 
Take a warning and a blessing 

From your fathers who have fought. 
So that, both of them possessing. 

You may set the foe at naught. 

Take a warning : that the fighting 

Is not over in a day ; 
Oh. the failures, weary, blighting ! 

Oh, the desperate delay ! 
For the waiting, and the hiding. 

And the unexpected shock, 
Y^ou will need the calm abiding 

Of the everlasting rock. 

Take a blessing : gallant heroes 

From a nation that is free, 
You are facing worse than Nero's 

Cruelty and treachery : 
All of heaven bends above you, 

God preserve you safe and true. 
For the folks at home who love you. 

And the land that prays for you ! 



We who know the olden story, 

Freedom's story proudly great. 
How we glory In your glory 

And the splendor of your fate ! 
Take our high congratulation. 

Far against the foeman hurled — 
We who fought to save the nation. 

You who fight to save the world ! 


Could I know In all my lifetime, 

Some wizard way, 
What a village doctor has to 

Know every day ; — 

Could I do in half a decade. 

By magic power. 
What a village doctor's got to 

Do hour by hour ; — 

Could I be the kinds of wonder 

He ha» to be, 
I should be a Bacon, Cesar, 

And— Deity ! 


I wish I could be the kind of fool I was in 
the days of yore. 

When people could send me on idiotic er- 
rands to the store. 

When I found the purse tied to a string, and 
discovered the sugar was salt. 

And tried to pick up the county line for jolly 
Uncle Walt. 

For now I'm a fool of a (tifferent sort, a less 

desirable kind. 
The faMhion of fool that dabbles in stocks 

and leavfMi his earnings behind : 
The fool that toilM for a hunk of gold and 

misscM the only woalth ; 
The fool that sells for the bubble of fame 

his happiness and health. 

Yes, now you l>ehold in me the fool, the mel- 
ancholy fool 

Who has to go back, with his temples gray, 
to the very primary Mchool. 

And learn the fundamentals of life, the sim- 
ple. esMential things. 

The iMxly that lives and the mind that thinks 
and the soul that trusts and sings. 

And would I could Iw the kind of fool I was 

in the olden days. 
The fool that would fall for an open trick 

and be fooled in those innocent ways. 

I would give the whole of my tMink accomit 

and the worldly success I am. 
If I could go to the kitchen door to look for 

the gooseberry jamb ! 


Oh, for a home on a hill. 

With the forests flowing away. 

Dipping and bending as woodlands will. 
To the farthest brink of the day. 

Mine be the gathering gaae 

Of a bird's look, aye, and a star. 

Noting the river's diffident ways 
As it curve* to the ships afar ; 

Watching the clouds as they go 
On the road of beautiful death ; 

Hearing the world-wide whispers low. 
Breathing the world-wide breath ; 

Seeing the earth as a whole. 
With a circle's glory complete ; 

Standing aloft, the sky in my aoal. 
And the mastered glol>e at my feet. 

Oh, for a home on a hill ! 

And if that never may be. 
Mine be the gase of a mountain stllU 

Though I dwell in a cave of the 

Mine be the conquering view. 

The fragments drawn into one ; 
And mine be the vision of all that la tmo 

When valley living is done ! 


I loved a meadow, shining fair and sweet. 
The clover's country and the lark's retrcAt ; 
But pick and shovel laid my meadow hare. 
And now a collar factory is there. 

I loved a hill, my outlook high, serene. 
Where broadening spirit met the expandlac 

scene ; 
Hut now my hill, remorselessly torn down. 
Lies level in the roadways of a town. 

I loved a grove, a quiet, holy place. 

Whose breath was peace, and every lc«f %, 

Hut now my grove, the home of seer and 
Gluts the gaunt bareness of a lumber-jard. 

I loved a brook, whose murmuring cnrrtaf 

To woodland shrines Inviolate of man : 
But now my brook, with tamed and tortured 

Tama the doll grinding of a wanry mUL 



I loved, the last of all, a glimpse of sky, 
With bird-wings aii<) tlie cloud-wisps floating 

Bat now across my bit of heavenly scope 
Behold a liite-bome sign : "Use Baldwin Soap I 



Her blushes are a thing to seek, 
A wonder to remember; 

They dawn upon her snowy cheek 
Like sunrise in December. 

They rest upon the tender snow. 
As fire from summer straying. 

Dear Love ! before her blushes go 
My heart has gone a-Maying. 


[Written during the World War at a time 
when the United States was moving very 

Phil Ossiflze is a very big man. 

And he owns a wonderful brain ; 
He can furnish a perfectly marvellous plan, 

He Is great when he comes to explain ; 
But when we are caught in a very big war. 

And the war must be speedily won. 
We have no time for a speculator. 

We need Mr. Getthingsdone. 

Putitinprint is a glorious chap. 

He can write in a masterful way ; 
He has elegant phrases forever on tap. 

And he always knows what to say ; 
But when guns bellow and soldiers bleed 

And the war-cloud swallows the sun, 
Rhetoric isn't the thing that we need. 

We need Mr. Getthingsdone. 

Wholeloafomone sees far, far ahead. 

He is great on the Ultimate Goal, 
He wants the Ideal and nothing Instead, 

And he owns an inflexible soul ; 
But there isn't much room in the midst of a 

For the dreamy Wholeloafomone ; 
We need the vim and the very present might 

Of the bold Mr. Getthingsdone. 

Mr. Getthingsdone wields a very clumsy pen. 

And his tongue is clumsy too, 
But he knows his Job and he knows his men. 

And he knows how to put things through. 
He is not polite, he is not high-brow. 

And he crudely hates the Hun ; 
But we need him badly and we need him now. 

We need Mr. Getthingsdone. 


Some bugs will sting and bite, and some 
Pretend to bite, but only hum. 

The flrst we fear, if we are wise; 
The second, fear, and then despise. 

But, after all, why rage and stew 
When humbugs merely tickle you? 

Why is it not a glorious thing 

That humbugs hum and do not sting? 

Why should we not rejoice, and praise 
The humbug's mild, alarming ways? 

He gives us all the glow and thrill 
Of flerce attack, without the ill. 

He brings the drum, the flag, the yell. 
And leaves at home the shot and shell. 

Where biting bugs in silence come. 
He warns us with a kindly hum. 

Where other bugs take all they flnd. 
He only leaves a laugh behind. 

So let us praise, by day and night. 
The bug that hums and does not bite. 




Of all the many woes that smart. 
And rack, and break a speaker's heart. 
The worst is this : "He said, in part." 

"He said, in part '—and then a bit 
Of commonplace, — no force, no wit. 
No logic in the whole of it ! 


He said, in part*' — the anecdote. 
The flnely thrilling lines you quote. 
The eloquence whereon you gloat, — 

All, all are gone ; and there remain 
Some doddering remarks inane. 
The very refuse of the brain ! 

Hereafter, in the time of rue. 

When those are stewed that ought to stew, 

That editor will get his due. 

l^ke flends will give him for his dress 
Just half a coat, — no more, no less, — 
And pants that but one leg possess. 

And he must on his journey start. 

Bearing on his remorseful heart 

This legend grim : "He wears — ^in part** 




Worry, the monster, hangs on my back. 
With a face made of fog. 
With a form like a log. 
And with long claws that rack, rack, rack. 
Worry hangs on my back. 

Worry, the monster, drones at my ears. 

With a screw for a tongue, 
 And with leather for lung. 

And a siphon of fears, fears, fears. 
Worry drones at my ears. 

Worry, the monster, reaches my soul. 
And he makes it his own 
With a sigh and a groan. 
And a pall on the whole, whole, whole. 
Worry reaches my soul. 

Worry, the monster, won't go away ; 
lie has found him a room 
Full of desperate gloom, 
Aud he swears he will stay, stay, stay. 
Worry won't go away. 

Worry, the mouster, has me in thrall ; 
And I groan and I sigh. 
And no helper is nigh ; 
I am under his pali. pall, pail. 
Worry has me in thrall. 


Baok9, books, 6ooir«. 5ool;«.' 

Stuff that is nothing but binding and looks, 
(tuessing and gonsiping ftooks of the times, 
Volumed of poetry (better named rhymes). 
Volumes of humor terribly strained, 
"Practical" books from which nothing is 
FlMHays regilding the gold of the past, 
BookN of philosophy vacantly vast, 
VoiunioH of »cl«>iioe revamping the old, 
Children's books, anything that can be 

N()v«>1m of incident, stagey, unreal. 
NovcIh of M'litlment vaguely ideal, 
NovelM histcrlcal. clumny and crude. 
Novrl^ of pamiion, the devil's own food, 
roiintiTM h«-np<Hl high, enough lHM>ks for a 
•Shop worn." "Hemaind»'rs." and **Vol- 

iinii*M MnrkiMl iKiwn." 
•Fifty r..i»t Tablo." and "Twenty-flve," 

"ilaiikrii|>t StiH^k" offered again and again, 
IttMtkH by tb«' curload and books by the 


!l<.okM tbat iir#» Slaving a Marvellous 

H«M.k> thHt ar«> "Standard" aud books "By 

the S«»l, • 

Volumes Just published and books hmrd to 
*'Flve feet of books" and books by the mOe, 
Volumes forbidding and books that b e^ i a ila. 
Stuff that is nothing but bindlnif 
looks, — 
Books, hooks, books, books/ 


Mysterious home of lofty thought. 

Unholy plotting place of sins. 
Until your silent work is wrought 
Nothing begins. 

In you the regal mountains rise. 

In you the merry streamlets run. 
In you the anthem of the skies 
Greets the lord sun. 

Within your tiny-vast domain 

The mystic seasons come and go ; 
All history upon this plain 
Stalks to aud fro. 

The forum of the world is here. 

And here the only battle-ground. 
Here clash all forces of the sphere 
Without a sound. 

Whoever here has victor strode 

And watched the weakling foemen fall. 
Though no one knows his mean abode. 
Is king of all. 


Who made the first wheels in the ages past? 
They were surely not light, nor handsoose, 

nor fast. 
They were only rough cuts of a hollow logr. 
And they jerked through the wllderneaa, joe 

jog, jog ; 
But barrows and carts and carriages grand. 
And big locomotives that conquer the land. 
Bicycles, steamboats, and automobiles. 
Were all. and far more, in that first pair of 

Yet where lived the inventor, and what was 

his name? 
Not the least whisper is hinted by fame. 
Statues we raise to thousands of men. 
Heroes admired uf the swoni nr the p4*n. 
But none of them all is so worthy as be 
Who cut the first wheels from the trunk of a 


And. pondering this. I've been thinking that 

Some nby little fellow with di*i'p dreaming 




May be liying among ub, unknown to as all. 
Looking banf at some tree that baa happened 

' to f aU, 
With a brain that can think and a heart that 

can feel, 
And contriving, for all of creation, — a wheel ! 
"He has wheels In bis head," the neighl>or8 

will say. 
But all men will ride on those wheels some 



It's football, baseball, auto, yacht. 

It's where men ride or shoot or row. 
It's golf or tennis or what not — 

There's just one thing we want to know. 
In city. Tillage, wilderness. 

On mountain-top, on ocean shore, 
Americans insanely press 

One hot inquiry, "What's the tcoret" 

And Just the same where Business rules 

His eager minions clamorous. 
The rash, the prudent, sages, fools. 

No other fact will do for us. 
We do not ask his course of trade. 

Or fair, or tricks, or something more ; 
But only ask how much he made. 

His total plunder, "What** the toorer* 

And Just the same In high reforms. 

Where men contend with rampant sin. 
And struggle in a thousand storms. 

And fight great foes, without, within. 
We do not note their seal complete. 

Their patience, courage, sorrow sore ; 
But only note success, defeat. 

Their patent progress, '*What*$ the ecoref" 

In heaven other questions rise. 

And happily on earth some day 
We shall behold with clearer eyes. 

And measure life a better way. 
We shall regard how difficult 

And true the course men struggle o'er. 
Nor only ask the crude result. 

The open outcome, "What*§ the $coref" 


As the up-to-date destroyer. 

Underneath the waters green. 
Travels swiftly through the ocean 

In his crafty submarine. 
Up he thrusts a curious funnel. 

Lest in nether gloom he grope. 
And surveys the watery surface 

Through a safe-eyed periscope. 

Thus we modern men, suspicious. 
Through the Sea of Living glide. 

Far beneath the surface waters 
And the frankly swinging tide. 

And. if we would see our brothers 
And the world's great brother-hope. 

We can only gaxe upon them 
Through a little periscope. 

Let us back to better living. 

Surface living, friendly, wise. 
On the trustful, open billows. 

Underneath the open skies ! 
Let us, hasting to the future 

As its glorious morning opes. 
Sail in brotherhood together : 

Let us smash our periscopes ! 


Grayness of cold in the woods and the sky. 
Bitter of cold in the twilight's breath ; 

Dark the desolate pastures He ; 

Hushed the home with the hush of death. 

Lo ! in a window a glow of light, — 
Marvel of changes! The magic ray 

Warms and gladdens the heart of night. 
And all the world is relieved and gay. 

Thus, when living is cold and drear, 

Thus, when heaven and hope are at strife. 

Thus the gleam of thy household cheer, — 
Humor, the light in the window of life I 


God the All-Powerful, God the All-Wise, 

God with the all-piercing eyes. 
How art Thou hopeful, and how dost Thou see 

Good that looks evil to me ! 
Sawest Thou humanly (Thou art so strong) 

All the world's sorrow and wrong, 
Sawest Thou only (Thou with Thy might) 

Half of man's burden and blight. 
Seeing not also some happy design 

Slow-growing line upon line. 
Something we see not, perhaps cannot know, 

Here in these vapors of woe — 
Were this not true of Thee, what hadst Thou 

O Thou Omnipotent One ! 
Long, long ago would invincible death 

Have leaped from the flame of Thy breath. 
Whelming the world with Its wrangle of men 

Back into chaos again ! 
O the divine, the mysterious hope. 

Beyond our blundering scope ! 
With that great Optimist hoping on high. 

Never a pessimist, I ! 
One sole assurance suffices for me, — 

This : we continue to be. 


I watcb lb* cblldnn plar b«*ldc the kb 

ttpoa an upland mretlow lltipil bl(h. 

The ocean larse before (bem, wave and 
A iMaadleu panorama wild and free. 
The clouda Id floatlnK compaolea agree. 

White ■hlpi allure the toDdly rollowlni ejie. 

And alt tbe glowing proipect far or nigh 

And yet the cblldren ton their little ball, 

Sboutlnii and rloiing Id heedleaa play, 
rnmlndful nf Ihe glorr of It all. 

Kor tbinklag onc^e beyond tbrlr meadow gmj. 
Among the bullercupi (bey Irap and tall. 

Tbe oceaa wide before tbem — what cat* 



A loaded needle'a plunge, a tittle watt. 

No throb of anguish mara tbn calm eatate 

1 nnd myoelt beside a garden gale. 

1 enter, and It li  qnlel place. 

Here only quid and oblivion He. 

Full of an ancient nnd mj-iterlou* grace. 

A place of peace, a merciful retreat 

Tbe treea are quaintly cut, the bloMoma fair 

For tortured body and tor weary leet ; 

Snbdue tbemnelvea to thi* palrlcLaD air. 

And yet my iplrlt pant* to get away. 

KwaiH' the dull Impaaalve wall of gray. 

And In tbe garden I am alt alone. 

!.eap from tbla formal and obacure douain 

No bird u here. Tbe ileepy llaarda crawl 

To friendly foteat or ciultant plain. 

Upon a gray and unrelenling watt. 

With trouble and with angulib— what carel> 

Beneath a free and hero hopcrul uliy. 

Wbere all my aorrowi and my turmoil ceaae. 

Itoomed to lla merciful, unmanly reat. 

No palm are here, I left mine at tbe gate: 

Uy garden la a priaun at tbe beil. 




I want to think a brilliant tboagbt; 

I think I might, no doubt. 
If I could think, as thinkers ought. 

Just what to think about. 

A little thought. If I could think. 
To bigger thoughts would lead. 

And thought to thought I then would link 
Till thinking should succeed. 

My only problem is to find 

That thought with which to start. 

Once give me that, I'm sure my mind 
Would learn the thinker's art. 


Four times the surgeons, milltary-flrm 

And fateful-grim, have sternly summoned me. 

Have haled me, prone and shrinking, to that 

The white, mysterious, oppressive cell, — 
The lethal home of Ether merciful. 
There Nancy waits, and kisses trembling-dear. 
And says good-by. And then the cone is 

And I breathe deeply, cough and breathe again 
Industrious. I hear the nurses move. 
And one is bantering an orderly. 
While from the operating-room beyond 
Come voices of the surgeons manly loud ; 
And 8till I draw the choking ether in, 
Breathe, breathe the unnatural air, per- 
sistent breathe, 
When sudden comes a chasm, — and I sink. 

Then instantly I catch my falling soul. 
And snatch a square of light, and subtly feel 
A bed beneath me stretching clean and smooth. 
While, just beyond the thinnest veil of sense, 
I hear dear Nancy talking to the nurse, — 
Sweet homely talk about her sewing work. 
Then about me, and what the surgeons said, 
And how I shall be well, oh, very soon. 
So there I lie, and hug me to myself. 
Hearing the pleasant talk, and comforted 
To know the thing is over, and well done. 
I chuckle inwardly, and at a turn 
Where it fits in, I Join the talk myself. 
And say, "Why, I have heard you all along !" 

So, if the wise Director shall ordain 

That Nancy go before me to our Home, 

To help prepare the Home, as women do ; 

Then I in turn, the Operation o'er. 

Will lie, God grant! upon some heavenly 

And hear dear Nancy talking to the Nurse 
About some household matter, may it be. 
Some sweet home topic of the other world, 

Perhaps of me, and how soon I shall wake. 
Then will I lie and hug me to myself. 
And listen happily a little while. 
Knowing the thing is over once for all. 
And I am well, and well for evermore. 
Then will I watch my chance and join their 

At some fine opening, and, laughing, say, 
"Why, Nancy, I have heard you all along !" 


Scarce touching earth, the lively sweep of air 
Lifts me and draws me forth into the fields. 
Why, what a merry wand the morning wields. 
Dimpling the world to laughter everywhere ! 
Fresh from her darkling still, a cordial rare 
The generous outpouring ether yields ; 
See how the careful woodland softly shields 
From such excess the ferns that nestle there ! 
The cool, sweet calm rebukes the noise of men ; 
The common happiness, their partial bliss ; 
There's not a tree in yonder radiant glen, 
No, not a leaf, that dreams of aught amiss. 
I think in heaven, from dawn till dawn again. 
The sturdy, vital days are all like this. 

[A popular aloflran during the World War.] 

On to Berlin ! And what's in the way ? 
Talkative geysers a-spouting all day. 
Party machines with imperative grind. 
Treacherous wire-pullers working behind. 
Asinine critics conceitedly bold. 
Primitive precedents covered with mold. — 
These we must conquer if we are to win ; 
Over them, over them, on to Berlin! 

On to Berlin ! And what's in the way ? 
Dignified pedantry prone to delay. 
Statesmen intent on their own little game. 
Private producers a-doing the same. 
Sinuous hyphens with hate in their hearts. 
Pacifists plsring their plausible arts, — 
These we must vanquish and all of their kin ; 
Over them, over them, on to Berlin ! 

On to Berlin ! And what's in the way ? 
Cowardly slackers that shrink from the fray, 
Misers that cling to their pitiful ^oss. 
Profiteers plausibly showing a loss. 
Prophets who whine that it cannot be done, 
Newspapers written and owned by the Hun, — 
Down with their dirty, contemptible sin ! 
Over them, over them, on to Berlin ! 

On to Berlin ! Sweep them out of the way. 
Millions of freemen whom nothing can stay ! 
Make of your money a vigorous thong ! 



Beat them with iMinnerB and flay them with 

Fly on the wings of your liberties, fly. 
On through the realm of the jubilant sky, 
Over the traitors and all of their din. 
Over them, over them, on to Berlin ! 


A guest in the East, when you go away 
You may bear, as a sign of your pleasant stay, 
A stick or a pebble broken in two. 
And half Is your host's, and half is for you. 

Henceforth, in the tangled path of men. 
If fate should bring you together again. 
However changed you may both have grown. 
The halves are joined and the friends are 

Ah, thus of the men I may chance to meet. 
At home or abroad. In shop or in street : 
They are mine, though daily their forms I see. 
Only when, soul to soul, they can match with 


Behold, a monument we lack 
In memory of good old Jack ! 

And let us rear it broad and high. 
In forkM splendor, to the sky. 

llow often have my weary feet 
Hastened his firm embrace to meet. 

How often has he set them free 
From cramped and burning agony. 

Or dust or mud. or rain or snow. 
No haughty Mcruplc did he show. 

Or tight or loose, or lar^e or small. 
An equal flrmiiesM mastered all. 

And whether coarse or fine the heel. 
His cordial grip was true as steeL 

No longer now the tortured foot 
1m prisoned in the racking boot. 

Light, flexllile. to nature true. 
We wear the eany going shoe. 

Emancipated now. shall we 
Forget that harsh captivity? 

Forgi*t the friend of our duress 
Who alde<l us in sore distress? 

Come, let us raise a column fine. 
Of some bifurcated design. 


And be this blazon widely kenned : 
Hio Jacet Jack, a solefai friend." 


**Tbe People*' ! These demure incompetents. 
These dollar drunkards, this illuatrlous 

This greasy, indistinguishable horde 
Crept from the slime of Europe and the 

East ! 

"The People" ! Yonder pure, heroic soul. 
A-tilt with wind-mills! Golden heads of 

And flaming heads of passion : hearts of 

And hopeless hearts that beat the breasts of 

doom ! 

"The People" ! Common drudges tamely 
Leeches that suck the wealth of other men. 
I'assers from hand to hand, and spider kings 
Crouched in the centre of a monstrous web ! 

"The People" ! Seers that know but dare not 

Bawlers that tell but do not see or know. 
Careless and brutal, stupid and intent. 
The rogue, the saint, the craven, and the 


'The People" ! Ah. the swarming multitudes. 
The endless tramp of feet and sway of heads. 
The di»y. desperate throng, the awful mass 
Pressing and pressing on the heart of Go<f ! 

The heart of God ! Oh. patient heart of God ! 
That knows a thousand years are as a day. 
That sees as one a million tossing lives. 
And out of chaos brings a perfect world. 

In the beginning, in the formless void. 
He gathered lands and seas, the barren lands 
And fruitful, seas of calm and seas of wrath. 
And stagnant swamps ; and saw that it was 

He drew the land to verdure, leaves of health 
And leaves of deadly |>oison. ranking weeds, 
DIfllcult wheat, slow oak. the vampire vine. 
The angry thorn, and saw that It was good. 

He molded life : the lisard and the dove. 
The faithful dog and serpents treacherous. 
Blind moles, proud eagles, creatures of the 

And of the sun. and saw that it was good. 

And He. yes. He made man, incongruous 

Man that confronts the stars victoriously. 



MaD that consorts with tigers and the toad, 
Brute-glorious man; and saw that be was 

"The People'* ! So God's people, hopeful so ; 
For all things work together for the good; 
Not all things work the good, but all things, 

Working together, bring the final good. 

Thy people. Just Creator ! Through the mesh 
Of tangled fates, the snarl of good and ill. 
We lift our feebly trusting hands to Thee, 
Who seest. Thou alone, that it is good. 


Master Bee, as you wanton among the sweet 

On your busy, gay loaferage speeding. 
Is there any bee-critic to poison your hours 

With advice as to regular feeding? 

Master Thrush, now a-sulk with a sniff for a 
Now a-tllt in a frenzy ecstatic, 
Is there any thrush Solon to tell yon how 
Is singing thus wild and erratic? 

Master Butterfly, lying along the smooth 

Or tumbling on meadow-waves surging. 
Do butterfly wiseacres trouble your ease. 

Some regular exercise urging? 

Merry masters, pray tell : what reply shall I 

To their dull and redoubtable pleading 
Who bid me such frolics as yours to forsake 

For a course of regular reading? 

Can 1 hope to explain how a nibble of Lamb 

Makes Bacon the easier eating? 
How a wee sip of Burns, just the tiniest dram. 

Clears the mind for a Miltonic meeting? 

Can I make them perceive, with my Shake- 
speare and Grote, 
How the first gains strength from the other. 
As that mystic old giant more mightily smote 
Each time that he touched his Earth 

Do you think they will see how we verily 
In defiance of regular order. 
All the nooks of the woods, all the flowers 
where they grow. 
While they have but crept through the 

No warrant have 

Cry pooh ! on the Solons. 
To be wretched that we may delight them. 
Come, Browning, thrush, Dickens, Locke, 
Bunyan, and bee ; 
Let's be foolish and happy to spite .them 1 


Some can talk, sagacious, tender. 
Strong discourse and rare ; 

Others fill the room with splendor 
Just by being there. 

Some can drive the world to duty 

By a brandished knife ; 
Others by the silent beauty 

Of a loving life. 

Some are praised to highest heaven 
Through a brilliant hour ; 

Others as a quiet leaven 
Wield eternal power. 

Fine are speech and valiant action 
Where the triumph rolls; 

But — the endless satisfaction 
Of the silent souls! 


Most potential traveller! 
There you He with not a stir. 
Peacefulest of paper squares. 
Quiet, waiting, free from airs ! 
But a wriggle of my pen 
Sends you to the world of men. 
Forth you go, equipped to fly 
To the far Alaskan sky, 
To Samoa's golden strand, 
Or to China's mystic land. 
Mountains, valleys, rivers, seas. 
You will cross with equal ease. 
Fair or stormy, hot. or cold, 
Still a steady way you hold. 
Garden, desert, far or near. 
On you fare with sturdy cheer. 
No refreshment by the way. 
Tempted not to turn or stay. 
Pausing not to hail or greet 
All the myriads you meet, 
On one purpose firmly bent, — 
Him to find to whom you're sent ; 
This your only meed and spur. 
Faithful little mesbenger ! 

Now, Americans, though we 
Rather sniff at heraldry. 
Here's an emblem fit and fine. 
Worthy of a Lincoln's line. 
Meet for palace, cot, or camp, — 
Just a two-cent postage stamp ! 




On a lazy summer day 
I kin bear the ocean say 
Sorter longin' to the beach, 

WiMh — tcUh, 
In a dreamy-reamy speech. 

Wish — tci9h — WiMh r 

Wonder wot It's wlshln* ferl 

Ain't a livin' emperer 

Got a patchin' to the gold — 

(With — %ci»h)— 
That the sea is s'posed to hold. 

(With^wUh — wUh !) 

Treasure vessels by the score 

Ljrln* on the ocean floor, 

Rubles, dimun's, gems, an* slch — 

(Wish — wUh)-^ 
Don't the ocean know it's rich? 

(With — with — wUh !) 

Wonder w'y it's reachin* out. 

Ain't no caplUl about. 

Ain't no plunder wuth a pin — 

(Wi9h — wi9h) — 
Fer its waves to gether in. 

(WisK-MiUh — wUh t) 

Ho ! I've got it ! Look at those 
Summer girls in summer clo'es ! 
Poor old ocean I 'f I were you — 

(WiMh — WiMh)^ 

I 'ud be a-wishin' too! 
(WiMh — vciMh — tciMh !) 


(The London confectioner who invented lc«' 
cream. ) 

A wreath for you, and ardent praise, 
(Or should it be in frigid phrase?) 
Great comforter of torrid days, 
Unlaurelled Gunton ! 

What led you to your icy deed. 
What theory, what comfort creed. 
What heated and p<>rRplring need. 
Ingenious Gunton? 

What gave you flntt the sparkling gleam. 
The Mhinlng and delicious dream 
Of cool and comforting Ice-cream, 
Inventor Gunton? 

What vision round your fancy flowed 
of Arctic Kea or Alpine road. 
Or were you dreaming that it snowed, 
Poetic Gunton? 

You could not see the* counters trim, 
Th«' tabl«»« round, the waiters prim. 
The million caf^s cool ami dim. 
Contriving Gunton. 

Tou could not know the rare device 
Of ice<cream soda, college ice; 
Well did the simple cream sufllce 
Discoverer Gunton. 

But we, enjoying all of these. 
The many modem ways to f reese. 
Would hail with universal sneese 
Columbus Gunton ! 


Once a captain, homeward bound. 
In a startled moment found 
He was running on to land. 
And the shoals were close at hand : 
Sudden sight and sudden shout. 
And the ship was turned about. 

Steering by the compass, he 
Thought himself far out at sea : 
But the astonished captain learned 
That the needle had been turned 
By a nail some carpenter 
Heedless drove, and left it there. 

So with many a gallant ship 
On our life-long ocean trip : 
Ah, what faUl wreck has been 
Where a single tiny sin 
With its steady, sure control 
Turned the compass of the soul ! 


No sunset fades : its palplUting glory 
Of blue and crimson never wholly dies. 

But, in the Joy of some remembered storj. 
Glows to the welcome of immortal iklec. 

No blossom perishes ; with bloom unfadins 
Its petals ope In everlasting light. 

Its Infant amaranthine fragrance lading 
The breezes of celestial meadows bright. 

No music ceases ; mystically holden. 
Deep in the heart of ether it abides. 

And will return to us the rapture olden 
Over the shining of eternal tides. 

No feeling dies, no sacre<l sweet emotion. 
No lover's kiss, no children's laugh, 
prayer ; 
All are a part of time's unending ocean. 
And we shall find them, some day. sarelj, 

What though our eyes, our ears, our tfullard 
Follow them not to their abiding home? 
Soon will they glad us in familiar faithlon 
When to their deathless mansions we hava 




I understand mr comradea of the woods, 
Aod they know me completely. Not an oak 
Bat !■ my brotber, BlrDDg. reserved, sincere. 
Along tbe bappy, peacetul Forest ways 
That wind go lallmately (brougb tbe trees 
I bold a calm commanlon with my friends, 
Tbe i.lnes und geolle birches. Dsy by day 
Insensibly Ibe bond Is closer drawn 
WItb beckonlngs of brandies, waftltntes 
Of subtle fraicrance. melodies at birds. 
Flickers of sUDllgbt on the leTel leaves, 
A tboDsand sweet encbantments pure and 

Tbis air dlnolve* my fretfulDeia and feats; 
They fall Into tbe green depths of tbe dell, 
Tbe cheery brooklet carries tbem away, 
Tbe bushes brush them off. I enter here 
With furrowed brow and hesvy-burdensd 

Bat little unseen hands sre softly pressed 
Upon tbe frowns, and little unseen hands 
TDK at the burdens till they all are Kone. 
Ah. what am I that these my woodland 

Should minister to me so graciously? 
Do they not know my follies sod my sin? 
Yet with a mother's blind, forgiving love 
They cleanse tbe foulnesses they will not see. 

Nor do they only wait for me to come. 
Withdrawn, eipectani ; but amid the din 

Of cities, snd upon Ibe crowded streets, 
I feel Ibe brick and mortar fade away. 
And niid tbe woods around me once again. 
Tall. sbadoHy. protecting. Once again 
I hear the woodland murmurs like a hymn. 
And on my troubled spirit lies once mote 
The peaceful benediction ot tbe trees. 


Two clouds that float together all the day 
Along the sunny conraes of tbe sky. 
Will sadly part, as day's encbantments die. 

And perish In tbe twilight's common gray. 

Two rivulets, thai And a wedded way. 
And carol tnany a shining landscape by. 
Descend at last where nameless waters lie 

Beneath the ocean's all-dlasolrlng sway. 

Not such, dear wife, dear lover. Is tbe goal 
Thai wall* for us upon our Dual breath. — 
Two bubbles, crushed within a swirl a< 

But like two pilgrims, worn of tense and soul. 
How happy we shall be when kindly Deatb 
Points out the lights and open doors of 




Some day, when the hollow mines 

Yield their final, grudging toll. 
When from out those drear confines 

Comes the last black lump of coal. 
Then, in chill and dark despair 

We shall learn to look on high. 
To the quarry of the air. 

To the coal-fields of the sky ! 

Where the sun In quietness 

Bends his ample daily course. 
There descends to cheer and bless 

A Niagara of force. 
Steadily 'tis pouring down. 

An incessant, copious yield. 
On the house-tops of the town. 

On the reaches of the field. 

Here no "strike" and no "combine** 

Will disturb the course of trade ; 
Every man will boldly mine 

In the aunfleld unafraid. 
Every man will take his own, 

Fuel to his utmost need. 
And the sun upon his throne 

Will rebuke our human greed. 


The little men, the dwarfish men, 

A special chance have they 
To work with hand or tongue or pen 

So well that folks may say : 
"Why. though he Im a tiny one. 

In spirit he is tall, 
A genuine Napoleon, 

A Little Corporal I" 

The awkward men of homely face 

May CBUttv th«> world to Hing 
Their lack of iK'auty and of grace 

Ah quite dlstinguiHhlng : 
"B«'hold. a second Lincoln, he 

A s(>cond Merfdom f re<>s !" 
Or : "Hage and ugly, io ! we see 

A second Hocrates!" 

There's not a wt^ight that holds men down, 

Th.'r<>'s not a pain men bear. 
Tli**rf>'M not an obloquy, a frown, 

A hindrance (»r a caro, 
Hut mt>n have lightly tossed the weight. 

And lightly iHirne the woe. 
And made a friend of hostile fate. 

And won their klngtlom so. 

Ah. better be the under man 

And struggle for the top. 
And do the deed no other can. 

Begin where others stop, — 

Ah, better give the world tarprlse 
At great achieved from small. 

Than start so high that nothing liea 
Before you but — a fall ! 


I feel the swinging human sea, 
I hear the calling human tide. 

The hail of mortal mystery 
Where all the deeps abide. 

The tangled surf and surge of men. 
The sweep of men, the rise and fall 

Of souls that clash and clash again. 
Impetuously they call. 

Oh. plunge with me ! and feel the waves 
lieneath and over and aroan<I, 

The blended lives of saints and knavea. 
The toss of sense and sound. 

Lie on the billows, float and rest. 

Merge in the universal man. 
Or rolling swell or leaping crest. 

Without a name or plan. 

Oh, bath of human brotherhood ! 

What salty vigors it applies! 
How rubs away the deadened good. 

And newly purifies ! 


In the angry, fiery gloom 
Of my weirdly lighted room. 
Where the lK>ttles and the trays 
Skulk in thost* sardonic rays. 
And the vague apartment seems 
Like a glimpse of nightmare dreams. 
Here, in this uncanny cell, 
1*0, a lovely miracle I • 

Square of glaKs. a milky white. 
Vacant to my <luUard sight ; 
Flow of liquid made to pass 
Vacant on the vacant glass; 
And a waiting reverent 
While (iod takes His InHtrnment ; 
Then, with huxh of solemn awe. 
See the mystic Artist draw ! 
See the plate, as vaguely dark 
Slowly growing outlines mark — 
Like a shadow from his mind — 
What the ArtlHt has designed. 
See the pencil delicate 
Moving on the expi'ctsnt plate. 
Here a str«)ke and there a touch. 
None t<M> little or too much ; 
Slow at first, then faster sent. 
As the Artist grows intent ; 
Faster yet and still more fast. 



Flashing marvelt at the last, 
Till upon the living glass 
Shines the tree and bends the grass ; 
Till I see the waters cool 
Plash in yonder pleasant pool ; 
Till upon the background rare 
(irows the fairest of the fair, 
Grows the picture's central grace, — 
Dear Miranda's star-lit face ! 

Artist Lord of loveliness. 

Need I tremble to confess 

Here, before this inner shrine 

Of Thy workmanship divine. 

How that face which Thou hast made 

Dims the pride of sun and shade, 

How this glimpse of her I love 

Draws my thoughts from Thee above? 

Hark ! a whisper in my ear : 
'Lover, lover, do not fear. 
I am Artist, none but I, 
Of the Joys beneath the sky. 
Here my lower art you praise, 
Seeing not the secret rays 
That upon your willing heart 
Stamped your lover's counterpart. 
Nor the mystic bath that drew 
This hid portrait into view, 
Nor the hand whose workmanship 
Pencilled brow and eye and lip. 
Lover, lover, do not fear. 
I am Lord of beauty's sphere. 
Am I jealous to upbraid 
Those that love what I have made?" 


Yours a dog's life, do you moan? 
Courage, brother ! cease to groan. 
Many men, as on they Jog, 
Live much worse than any dog. 

Yours a dog's life? Then, my boy, 
It's a life crammed full of joy! — 
Merry breezes, meadows fair. 
Birds and brooks and sunny air. 

Dogs ? why, dogs are never sad ! 
See them capering like mad ! ' 
See them frisk their Jolly way 
Through the livelong laughing day ! 

Dog's life? Then you'll never rust. 
Dog's life? Then you'll hope and trust; 
Then you'll say in Jaunty glee, 
"Bones have been, and bones will be." 

Cheery, active, trusting, true, — 
There's a canine goal for you ! 
Live a dog's life. If you can : 
You will be the better man I 


What if my Julia's happy eyes 
Are filled with ever glad surprise 

To see herself so fair? 
Must she alone be dull and blind 
To what is dear in human kind. 

And glorious and rare? 

Must she herself alone Ignore 
The loveliness that all adore 

In eye and mouth and face? 
Must she alone be witless quite 
Of that Incomparable sight. 

That galaxy of grace? 

And why should she not understand 
The witchery of snowy hand, 

The lure of dainty skin? 
Or why should she not brightly know 
The powers that with beauty go, 

To satisfy and win? 

I would not praise the stupid girl 
Unconscious of her tiniest curl, 

The bending of her arm ; 
Let these that such delight confer 
Be also purest joy to her. 

And double every charm ! 


The trees are standing silent In the sun 
Like priests of quietness. The river flows 
Its gentle way between its bushy banks. 
And seems the current of a peaceful dream. 
The bird-songs melt upon the placid air. 
And find a sweet solution. Hither floats 
A whiff of thistledown, as lightly borne 
As spirit upon spirit, as my soul. 
Afloat upon the brooding thought of God. 
How far away, how crudely strange and far, 
The very memory of earth's unrest. 
The crash of wills, the vehemence of greed. 
The blare of pride and groan ings of despair ! 
Here It is still and steady, quiet here 
Because so much of God Is greatly here. 
So little of the littleness of man. 
The mind enlarges through the waiting wood:*, 
Expands amid the tree-tops, rises glad 
To wander on the galleys of the clouds 
Far over oceans of the upper blue 
To happy continents of love and light ; 
Or, whimsically back withdrawn. It finds 
Another world low-hidden in the grass, 
A world of softest shadows, peopled full 
Of busy creatures, silent and serene. 
And yesterday I fretted! Yesterday, 
Nay, but an hour ago, I tore my heart 
With envy, sharp ambition, eating dread. 
O Thou Beneficence and Beauty, Thou. 
The Prince of Peace that rulest all in all. 
Forgive those tumults of Thy foolish child. 



And wrap me so about with qaletneas. 
So wrap around the central soul of me, 
That I may leave this pasture of Thy peace, 
And enter the world's discord bearing attU 
The flawless armor of tranquillity. 


We meet — one another, and friendship ex- 

As eye catches eye, and as hands welcome 

The touch of good fellowship thrills to the 

And each is inspired by the teal of the whole. 

We meet — the dear Saviour, unseen and un- 
heard ; 
We leap to the vision, we feed on the word ; 
His presence, so loving, so wise, and so strong. 
Is felt in each moment of prayer or of song. 

We meet — our ideals ; exulting we see 
The grace that our living might blessedly be. 
We burn with the joy of that promised de- 
And spring to achieve it in heaven-born might. 

So meeting, we practise the life of true men ; 
Ho parting, we part but to gather again ; 
Till soon — how the spirit awaits It and 

yearns ! — 
We shall meet In the meeting that never 


(Written during our year of the World War.) 

In the battles, the frensy, the dread 

Of this ineffable year. 
In this blur of the living and dead. 

One word is unfailingly clear : 
One word through the anguish of night 

Gleams far In the heavenly dome, 
'Mid the shells in their horrible flight. 

The dear, shining letters of "liome." 

*'IIome ! Home !" In the trench and the mud 

lluw maddening swoet is the sound! 
"Home ! Home !'* where a temp<*st of blood 
IWatti hot on the desolate ground ! 
What longings, what hope and despair 
From the Held or the honpltal roam 
To that fairest of all that is fair. 
Tbt* dear waiting doorway of home I 

And we who incessantly pray 

And out to the battle-flelds yearn. 

Ah. let us mak«> ready the day 

When our heroes shall proudly return ; 

The homes they an* tlghting to save. 
I^t us clean them without and within 

From the foulness of traitor and knarc. 
The last rotting remnant of sin. 

Let the windows be shining and pure. 

Let the walls be sturdily strong. 
And all of the mansion secure 

From the threat of insidious wroo^. 
Let the blossoms of brotherhood spring 

From the heart of the jubilant loam. 
And the bells of all heaven shall rinc 

As we welcome our heroes home. 


When all the sky is very black 

And all the earth is blue, 
And all the fiends are on your track 

And howling after you ; 

When courage falls and hope decays 

And fair ambition dies. 
And all your dreamland is ablase 

Beneath the ebon skies ; 

When you would fain renounce the goaU 

Nor plod another mile. 
Oh, straighten up your drooping soul. 

And — ^just — ^hold on — a while ! 

Hold on a while ! the darkest night 

May bring the fairest day. 
Hold on a while I the good, the rlirkt. 

Will always find a way. 

Hold on ! for is Jehovah dead 7 

His love an empty song? 
Hold on ! have heaven's armies fled 

Before the hosts of wrong? 

Hold on ! for still some strength remains. 

Nor yield you till you must : 
A newer life may flood your veins* 

Bom of a larger trust. 

A newer life — hold on for that ! 

A lily from the mud ! 
The greening peak of Ararat 

Emerging from the flood ! 

The clouds are shattere<l by the son ; 

The earth Im all aglow ; 
Away the howling devils run. 

And back to hell they go ! 

Hold on for that ! Do what you cmn. 

Nor prove a craven elf : 
For henven never helped a man 

Until he helped himself. 

And when your fondest hopes are dead 

And fate has ceased to smile, 
^is then it pays to lift your head 

And — just — bold on — a while. 




Ob, the beauty I have seen. 

On the earth and in the sky ! 
Oh, the Bunshine in between 

As the shadows floated by ! ' 
Oh, the faces sweet and fair. 
And the bird-notes in the air. 
And the grace the blossoms bear 
Dearly nigh ! 

Where the sunrise glory gleams, 

Where the twilight bushes fall, 
In the laughter of the streams, 

In the ivy on the wall. 
Where the thoughts of love arise 
In a maiden's happy eyes — 
What a dream of .beauty lies 
Over all! 

There are terrors of the storm, 
There is winter's chilly woe. 

But the Father-love is warm. 
And His wisdom has it so ; 

All the world 's the Father's kiss. 

Just a glimmer of the bliss 

In the region after this 
Where we go ! 


O bird with the mournful throat. 

Singing in sorrowful key. 
What grief does your song denote. 

Your desolate "De^kry me"t 

Where could you have learned your song, 
When all of the woodlands ring 

With carollings cheery and strong 
That dance and frolic and swing? 

Has any one done you harm? 

Do you fear a mysterious woe? 
What breezes have whispered alarm 

And left you sorrowing so? 

The woods are full of content. 

There's gladness in blossom and tree. 

And yours is the only lament. 
Your woebegone "De-cry me." 

Cheer up, you worrying bird ! 

Be ashamed that a wingless man 
Should offer this heartening word 

To one of the feathered clan ! 

Take note of your relative there. 

The phoebe happy and wise. 
Who sings the sprightliest air 

Beneath the gloomiest skies. 

And change your disconsolate tune 

As soon as you possibly can. 
For fear, some unfortunate June, 

It might be adopted — by man ! 


We love to read the magic tales of old. 

Where knights courageous rescue ladies fair. 
Or brave a dragon in his horrid lair, 
Or face a giant confidently bold ; 
But these, alas ! are days of sordid gold, 
And what romance may bills of lading wear? 
What knighthood in the counting-room of 
What gallantry where things are bought and 

Nay, blind and stupid! where the weaklings 
The mighty mock, where privilege is 
And poverty makes ineffectual moan. 

And chains of giant wrong are grimly fast. 
Are calls for courage man has never known, 
A newer knighthood braver than the past. 


In centre and circumference of all 
A Somewhat lies, mysterious and vast. 
The woven substance of all substances. 
The face and motion of appearances. 
The thought of thought and very soul of souls. 
Men call it Beauty, or men call it God, 
Or dare not name it ; all confess it there. 
Though some confess it by denying it. 
There is no place without Thee, Beauty, God ! 
Where water breaks to light an(f loveliness. 
Or festers in the mud ; where mountains rise 
Amid the stately sweep of shade and sun ; 
Where deep in rumbling burrows men extort 
The girders of their cities ; where a child 
Beckons his comrade, or two lovers kiss 
Beneath the benediction of the woods. 
Or sober statesmen write a nation's doom, 
Or hucksters wrangle in the market-place. 
Or some dear mother croons her babe to rest ; 
Wherever solids ring or colors glow 
Or foul or fragrant steals upon the air ; 
Wherever being breathes, or waits in dust. 
Or never was or will be, in the dread 
And gloomy riddles of unfathomed space, — 
StiU there, still here, and binding all in all, 
Yet parting each from each in endless forms. 
Discern the One, in whom it all is one ; 
Discern the One, and tremble, and adore ! 

'Tls Sight ; who sees it, first begins to see. 

'Tis Life ; who touches it, begins to live. 

'Tis Thought ; who knows it, in that hour is 

Tis Love ; who feels it, never is alone. 

This is to be a poet : to perceive 
The laws of empire in a tavern brawl, 
Arcturus as a cottage lamp, the sum 
Of beauty in the shadow of a leaf. 



Tbis is to be a poet : well to know 

The subtle symmetry tbat flows through all, 

Forming a beetle In a lion's mold, 

Painting the sky with colors of the field. 

Attuning to the spheric harmonies 

The whistle of a factory at noon. 

Never the poet finds a common thing. 
Never the poet hears a common sound. 
Never the poet meets a common man. 

And he who thus attains the Oversoul, 
The Undersoul, the Central Soul of souls, 
Speaks not about it, but becomes its tongue; 
Travels not to it, but becomes its feet ; 
Yes, prays not to it, but becomes Its hands. 
And so the poet's poems are not his ; 
But if they rise in some cathedral dome. 
Or float upon an organ's royal tones. 
Or breath* in eloquent canvas to the eye. 
Or singing lift the covers of a book. 
Or melt insensate marble into man. 
Or fashion happily a perfect home. 
Or send a smile into a darkened day, — 
Howe'er the poet plies his devious art. 
It is not he that works, nor toils by rote. 
With plan and programme conscious of him- 

But he Is one possessed, commanded, bound, 
A blessed serf, a rapturous instrument. 

And thus he runs at counter to the world. 
The prim. dull, earthy world, that cannot see. 
Nor hoar, nor feel, nor ever understand, — 
Blind men that crawl upon the crust of things. 
Grasping and garnering they know not what ; 
Grasping and hoarding it, they know not why. 

Thither to slip again from whence he rose. 
Back to that surface fumbling In the dark. 
This is the poet's hell. Oh. comrade mine. 
Come, hold we fant together, lent we fall. 
What voices call un, bold, imperative! 
What hands lay hold upon us. white and soft ! 
What lures are spread before us, golden 

bright ! 
Why. poetry it seems is courage too, 
And self-control and all heroic arms. 
We S4'rve a jealous deity, praise God ! 
WhoM' niiiHtancy would mate our constancy 
As stanch horizons fit the bending skies. 

Live to the centre ! Masterfully part 
From glittering nhallows and Ignoble shows. 
Live to the centre, where the substance is. 
Live to the centre, where endurance is. 
Live to the centre, where are Joy and peace. 
Clasp souls with illm, the Poet Oversoul. 
And live with Illm a poem evermore. 
Then Im* It written fair In script or stone 
Or mnrNhall*Hl sounds or hues Imperial, 
*Tls well : or bv it never writ at all, 

'Tis also well ; or be it praised of men. 

Or tossed into oblivion, 'tis well. 

For poetry is poetry's reward. 

And life is blessed with living, and the crown 

Of noble thinking Is the noble tboaght. 


The willows glimmer in the sun. 

The aspens tremble on the breese. 
The singing ripples gently run 

Within the shadows of the trees. 

The quiet, meditative kine. 

The steady granite in the wall — 

What peace, contenting and benign. 
Enfolds and crystallises all ! 

Rebuked, ashamed, the faithless fret. 
The childish worry, fall away ; 

My empty fear and vain regret 
Dissolve In God's assuring day. 

If peace on earth so fair and sweet 

Is gladly, freely, fully given. 
What joy some day our souls will gm&ty 

The unimagined peace of heaven ! 


It flows through Virginia hills 

Beneath the rocks and the ground. 

And the hush of the woodland it fills 
With a strangely mysterious sound. 

Unseen, it ruiihes along. 

Through cavernous passages drear. 
And only Its murmur of song 

Comes muffied and faint to the ear. 

But that, and one eddying pool, 

Outreached from the reticent streaoEi, 

A goblet all crystalline, cool. 

And sweet as a draught in a dream. 

Thus. thus, througli the hardness and strife. 
Beneath the weight of our W04*8, 

Cnwen In our valley of life 
The River of Happiness fiows. 

But It sings to the lUtening heart. 

And the gl«K>mlest shadow of ill 
With th<> touch of Its song Is astart. 

With the beat of Its hope is atbrilL 

And ever some drift of its brim 

It offers prophetic and free. 
As It speeds through imprisonments grim 

To the open and opulent sea! 


A live: wire. 

I did not know — bo nirkwBrd I, 

So (nmbliDg Id my apeecb — 
That I bad toucbed a gulrerins nerve 
No man might nUlj reach. 

A burat, a flaib, a deidlj blow, 
A frlendiblp Dumb for »jt. 

What other end ma; one eipect, 
If one with Ugbtnlnia piB;! 


ClOM to mj heart, tbe road* of men t 
Straight, or best to tbeir beautiful wlU, 
Down the valley and over tbe hill. 
Brave] f bare to tbe threat of the kbi. 
Explorer of forests, friendly of treea. 
Sweeping the mrvee of ample down*. 
Cloven and torn In the maie of lowna, 
Cllll-road, river-road, upland and glen, 

Oh, the woodertul roBda of men I 

Fallow. I follow wherever they go! 
Cheerj dielr call and their spell Is awi 
Joy to tbe eye, a charm to the feet, — 
Other men. many men. here before. 

These are the ways tbaC my brothera take 
Cbooie I Ihsm all for my brotbere' sake, 
All would I enter and loverly know; 
Follow, I follow wberever thej go I 




If all of life were a day, love. 

Thou staouldst be light of it. 

Sparkle and bright of it. 
Fair in thine eyes as the blossoms are spun, 
Sweet in thy voice as the rivulets run ; 

Bound in the lure of thee. 

Happily sure of thee, 
Oh, when life is a day, love, 

Thou art my sun ! 

If all of life were a night, love, 

Thou shouldst be part of it. 

Centre and heart of it. 
Deep in the dark of thine eyes and thy hair, 
Deep in thy mystery, deep the despair 

Failing thee, finding thee. 

Loosing thee, binding thee ; 
Oh, if life were a night, love, — 

What should I care? 


Where the stamping horses pass 
And the dust is in the grass. 
By the roadside bare and hot 
Gracing each unlovely spot, 
Lo ! before our weary eyes 
Shines the blue of summer skiet. 

Gleaming like an asure star 
W*here the fiercest sunbeams are. 
Neighbor Chickory bestows 
Such a sense of cool repose. 
In the noon-tide's hottest glare 
It is always evening there. 

Oh, to learn the conquering grace 
Of that blossom's tender face! 
Thus victoriously may I 
W*here the choking dust-clouds fly 
And life's clamors never cease 
Bring the cooling sense of peace. 


Eden was a garden : 

Green things growing, lily and rose, 

Violet tendernoMs, poppy glows. 

Beets and onions and such as those, — 

Eden was a garden. 

Adam worked the garden : 
Morning dewH In the delicate light, 
Callouses, luickache, proper and right. 
Sleep, ah ! sleep through the soft, sweet 

Adam worked the garden. 

Eve, too. in the garden : 

Lilies and popples the woman out-glow«d. 

Tied, and weeded, and carried a load, 

Brought the water as Adam hoed, — 
Eve, too, in the garden. 

Eden *s still a garden : 

Work, untrammelled, with hand and heart. 

Dirt, clean dirt, and a little of art. 

And a glorious woman doing her part, — 

Eden *s still a garden. 


Day after day, day after day. 
At awkward blindman's buff we play. 
Our silly eyes 
Self-hidden from the longed-for prise. 
Death take9 the handkerchief airay. 


Across the doleful vacancy 

For many months it lay. 
One friendly lock that stayed by me 

When the others fell away. 
It hid the barren waste behind. 

And gave a sense of hair ; 
It kept me in a youthful mind 

As long as it was there. 
Sarcastic barbers now and then 

Aspired to cut It off ; 
But I withstood those merry men 

And met their fleering scoff. 
No impish breese in all the sky 

Would leave it lying flat ; 
A gallant re<l-plunied knight was I 

Whene'er I raiiH>d my hat. 
It would not keep Its proper place ; 

With ceaseless enterprise 
It straggled down my dismal face 

And tickle<l In my eyes. 
It never foole<l a single soul 

Except the fool I am. 
For me. Time's waves that onward roll 

It held with hairy dam. 
But one by one the hairs grew less 

Upon my shining crown. 
And aye to fill the emptiness 

I parte<l further down. 
The merest wisp I learned to spread 

As far as it would go ; 
It made upon my barren head 

A last, pathetic show. 
But now. ah, me ! I cannot comb 

A single gallant hair ; 
Time sits triumphant on the dome. 

My cranium is bare. 
The teeter-board of life has turned 

Upon Its downward sweep : 
The hurrying years, so stoutly apunicd* 

Now drag me to the deep. 
Perchance upon the other shore — 

Sweet hope of dying men ! — 
ru meet that faithful lock once iDor«, 

And have my hair again ! 




The shattered rose has fallen to the floor 
In shelly loveliness. The carpet's green 
Forms a new turf, and in that lower scene 

Each petal blossoms as a flower once more. 

How light it lies as having wings to soar, 
A curve of pink ! And how its gentle mien, 
The soft, rich fulness of its tender sheen. 

Surpass the clustered rose we knew before ! 

Oh, not in labor's summer-bloom of pride 
Does life its crowning loveliness disclose. 

Sweeter the lights in autumn days that hide, 
And tender age a morning beauty shows. 

Scatter life's broken petals far and wide : 
Each is a newer and a lovelier rose. 


Ah, where in the gutters of Naples, 

Or where in the alleys of Rome, 
Or where in the valleys of Scotland 

Are boys like our urchins at home? 
Bright-eyed, dean-souled, merry rascals. 

Their voices a jubilant burst, — 
You may look at the youth of the nations. 

But "see Younff America first" ! 


[Read at the Howells Commemoration Meet- 
ing of the Boston Authors Club.] 

Hills of Ohio, woods and shining plains. 

Pioneer valleys radiant with the morn. 
Daring and sure in all your gallant veins, 
Of you was Howells born. 

Out of the land of drudging pioneers. 

Ponderous forms with only eyes aflame. 
The land of patience grimly conquering 

Our patient Howells came. 

Friendly he saw the bold exploring folk. 
Noted the ways their blundering spirits 
Into what temples clumsily they broke — 
And wrote it in a book. 

Gravely Ohio gave him of her best. 

The steady plough, the axe's rise and fall. 
The eager eye that loves a venturing quest ; 
Gravely he took it all. 

Then with his Buckeye hold on circum- 
He passed to Italy, the land of dreama. 
To Italy, the home of high romance 
And dim poetic gleams. 

What stranger meeting through the shifting 
Than this, the stubborn son of modern 
Plunged, from the sharp light of the pioneers. 
To old Venetian haze ! 

Tet Venice also of her best bestowed. 

Her mellowness of kindly tolerant age. 
Her tempered sun that henceforth calmly 

Upon his broadening page. 

Never henceforth, in clash of western trade. 
In greed's hot frensy and impetuous cries, 
Could he forget the still cathedral shade. 
The mirrored Bridge of Sighs. 

Then came the pioneer to Boston Town, 
Boston, the mother home of pioneers, 
Boston, that never yet has settled down 
Through all her restless years. 

And gladly Boston took him to her heart. 

Her gay old heart, alert and ardent still. 
Deeply he loved her, from the Quincy Mart 
To sober Beacon Hill. 

He shifted homes : to Cambridge ancient-new, 
Louisburg Square that wears its crown by 
Bright Beacon Street, and then the Avenue 
Of most un-Commonwealth. 

He loved his Boston : all her plodding ways 

That twisted out into the universe. 
Her whimsies and stabilities, her gaze 
Quietly sure— or worse. 

He wrote his Boston, from the Common fair 

To Albany Station where all contrasts meet. 
From shadowy warehouse to the classic air 
Of stately Beacon Street. 

And Boston also gave him of her best. 

Her rattling wagon tethered to a star. 
Her fond ideals heavily possessed 
By all the things that are. 

And last he came — ^where else in all the 
world T — 
Led by those lines so sure in every torque, 
To where all currents fiercely met and swirled. 
All people's home. New York. 

In his soul 
prayer for all 

For he was all men's brother. 
Lived the warm, pulsing 
men's good. 
And through his books uniting currents roll. 
The fiood of brotherhood. 

Out in the streets of that amazing scene. 

In every throng he walked a vital part. 
No one he found or common or unclean 
Or stranger to his heart. 



Old world and new, he bound them both in 
Set In that focus of the human race 
He only knew the unlvemal sun. 
The groping human face. 

And still — and still — through all his gracious 
He never lost the light of boyhood days, 
The eager qucHting of the pioneers. 
The swift Ohio ways. 

And still, in whatsoever glowing star 

His ardent and unresting feet are set, 
I know he dearly loves the things that are. 
And seeks for better yet 


**He*M shaky on bis pinM." they said, 
**A-meanin' little Baby Ted. 

*'I felt him over, and I swear, 
I couldn't tind a pin was there. 

*'Now KiHter'rt multPHo kitten. Joe, 
Ho ban a pin in every toe !'* 



[TheHo verseH are almost a literal tran> 
■nipt nf th«» written defence made by a cer- 
tain popular sp«*ukcr and wrltt^r on ethical 
th<*mi*ii when he left hlii wife for another 
wuniHii. ] 

I'm a |>ro|>het. and therefore, of cour»e, 
I'm a tratrit' anil nnich-Hluiit«>d man ; 

I'm n hero of holy. pri'-AdamIt*' force; 
1 puiriuo the orlKinal plan. 

I proni|s«Ml to honor and love. 

I promlMil to ehcrlKh nnd k<H>p. 
Itnt Truth 1m my »;ud in th«> heavens al>ove, 

WhiM'Vcr may llabhily wrep. 

And rh»*r»'for»» I'm haftpy to ntnte. 

In thf iiam«> of the Tnitb I adore. 
That .ViiwUiiT hait «*nt«'ri*d my Being of late 

And liiat I am lli>rH Kverniore. 

That irt. I *>hMiilfr liki* to explain. 

1 am hfr^*. ^h** i** mln*>. nH It were. 
In an fthlcnl. blcbphllnHophleal vein. 

Till foiiif otlii'r Inipre<«i«hm uetnir. 

Thi' prMarhem. and jiuch. I defy ; 

Thi*\ art without loeie or ruth : 
And liify utterly fall to hav«> noticed that I 

.\mi a l.<tyal IMnrlple of Truth. 

I refuse to discuss the detailsi. 
The bondage of father to child ; 

In points such as this Christianity fails. 
And I am for Truth undeflled. 

Those trivial family cares 

To the ex-wife most properly fall ; 

These domestic arrangements are plicate af- 
And none of your busineas at alL 

For has she not money galore? 

And what further could Womanhood 
And now I am free to exult and to 

In the realms of an Ethical Task. 


Written when William H. Taft was Prssldsot. 

There's Bill the First, the Presidential Bllt 
Whose large proportions all the country OH, 
Whose thought molds history In many ways. 
Whose word a nation — more or lesa — obeyn 

The second Bill, the sage Congressional Bill, 
Has larger tiway and wields a stouter will. 
How many tlmeM. in many a well-fought field. 
Must Bill the First to Bill the Second yield! 

But Bill the Thinl. the mighty Dollar BUI. 
Has greater force nnd inflneni*e vaster still. 
ri)on bis l»erk and call the mlllinns wait. 
In market -placeM and the balls of state. 

But Bill the Fourth, the little Dunning BUI. — 
Ah. bis the final power, the reigning skill ! 
When all the laws are writ, the deeds are 

This Bill tbe Fourth rules every mother's ■'>» ' 


O Country, my <'ountry. whoite pride Is oo 

SnlMiu«*r of ocean, of earth, and of aky. 
Htntni; lMiild«'r «»f cltli't*. uIjo* ruhT of men, 
Vndaunti'd «>f nword and cotiratrtMiUM of ppn.— 
L4N)k not. (> my country. Uutk not to the town 
For the foiNl of thy peace and tbe immmI of 

There, then*. N thy problem, thy weaknens 

and Hhnme. 
The oni* KliMuny Idot on thy clorlous name ; 
But the strength of the pure, and thf Joy of 

the fair. 
And thi» grail* of the wine, art* ni>t there. ar«» 

not there. 
Turn, turn from tbe city. ItH tdn and disgrace. 
And look on the country's beatlrte«l fao*. 



Go, wash in the brooklet the care from thy 

brow ; 
As gayly it flowed in thy childhood, so now. 
Press deep in the woodland, and fall on thy 

For the great benediction of quiet and trees. 
From the crest of a hill loolc amazed and afar 
Where only sereneness and fmitfulness are. 
Find yonder a garden, where quaintly arow 
Alyssum, Sweet William, and Candytuft grow. 
Afield with the floclc in the morning's delight. 
And bade with the cows on the coming of 

And soundly asleep in the old attic bed, 
God's peace on the earth and His stars over- 
head ! 
Ah, this, proud Uepublic of Providence, this 
Is the source of thy might and the home of 

thy bliss. 
Wherever ambition and conquest allure, 
Forget not that here it is happy and pure. 
Wherever thy masterful cavalcades go, 
Whatever far land is thy friend or thy foe. 
Whatever the perils that threatening lower, 
Rememl>er that here is renewal of power. 
Exult in thy triumphs, O Ruler of Men ! 
Advance thy bright banner again and again ! 
Tread firmly the pathway our forefathers trod. 
The child of Dame Nature, the daughter of 


"Wizard, wizard, tell me clear 
When is the best day to court my dear, 

My dear who does not like me?" 
The wizard put on his glasses wise, 
He looked at the ground and he looked at 
the skies. 
And thus spake he : 
"When the moon is hot and the sun is cold. 
And the shepherd houses the wolves in his 

When the robin flies high and the hawk flies 

And the rivers up to the mountains go. 
When the black bat sleeps in the bobolink's 

And Castor and Pollux rise out of the west. 
Then Is the likeliest day of the lot 
To woo the maiden that likes you not." 

"Wizard, wizard, tell me clear 
When is the best day to court my dear. 

My dear who truly loves me?" 
The wizard wrinkled his forehead wise, 
He gazed at the ground and he gazed at the 
And thus spake he : 
"When the sunbeams laugh and the gray 
clouds scowl. 
When you hear the lark or the wren or the 

When the brooks run blithely down to the 

When two can sit on the same settee. 
When Saturday comes at the end of the 

And a bashful lad finds it hard to speak. 
That is the very best day for you 
To woo the maiden that loves you true." 


"Lots for sale." I-K)ts — of what? 
Lots of trouble, like as not. 
Lots of fuss with "equities," 
Titles, deeds, and lawyers' fees. 
Ix>ts of talk with architects. — 
Every man the Job expects. 
Lots of tiffs with carpenters, 
Masons, plumbers, plasterers. 
lx>ts of unexpected bills, 
•Little extras," — bitter pills. 
Lots of city taxes due, — 
Gas and water, sewer too. 
Ix>ts of advertising then. 
Try, and try, and try again. 
IjotB of folks with half a mind. 
And a dozen faults to find. 
Lots of worry, pains untold. 
Till the pesky thing is soltl. 
I^ots of fine experience. 
But of profit — not five cents. 

**Lots for sale" — ^and who will buy? 
Lots of people ; no more I ! 


What is a letter? A bridge In the night 
From my soul to your soul ; and over it go 

Envoys of darkness or envoys of light. 
Ladings of blessing or burdens of woe. 

What is a letter? A signal, a fiash 

Darting directly from your soul to mine. 

Meaningless, meaningful, prudent or j-ash. 
Always n boding or Jubilant sign. 

What is a letter? A fiip of the pen? 

Paper and mucilage? That and no more? 
Nay ; 'tis the fatefulest action of men. 

Reaching eternity's ultimate shore ! 

Burn the old letters? Alas, if you could! 

Burn up indifference, malice, or bate? 
Once they might burn, or be altered to good. — 

Ere they were written ! but now is too late. 

Burn the old letters? the missives of cheer, 
Glowing with merriment, pulsing with love? 

Nay ! though the paper disintegrates here. 
They are preserved in the mansions above ! 




The wordH of Christ are fruitful teedl^ 
SprlDging up iu loTlng deeds. 

The words of Christ are lamps agloWt 
Showing travellers where to go. 

The words of Christ are shining goalf. 
Beckoning courageous souls. 

The words of Jesus mountains are^ 
Prom whose top we see afar. 

The words of Jesus are a fleett 
Loaded with the finest wheat. 

The words of Jesus are a host. 
Conquering foes that loudly boast. 

The Saviour's words are skilful guides, 
Leading up the mountain-sides. 

The Saviour's words are lashing cords, 
And flying darts and piercing sworda. 

The Saviour's words are gentle rain. 
Freshening the arid plain. 

The words of Christ our life shall be. 
Here and through eternity. 


Have you found the Bible 

That Josiah found? 
Have you delved for treasure 

In that holy ground? 
Have you proved its pledget 

Gloriously true? 
Have you found the Bible? 

Has the Book found youf 

Have yon found the Bible 

Reaching to your heart? 
IISM it touched the fountain 

Whore the teardrops start? 
Has it ImthtHl your spirit 

In its cleansing dew? 
Have ynu found the Bible? 

Has the B(M)k found youf 

Have you found the Bible 

Helping In your work? 
I)<M*N It give you c«»urage 

Not to faint or shirk? 
Is it strength for all thing! 

You are set to do? 
Have you foun<l the Bible? 

Has the Book found youf 

Have you found the Bible 

Ever giving light? 
DoeM It cheer the darknett 

Of the gloomy nlffht? 

When the troubles thicken 
Does it pull yon through t 

Have you found the Bible? 
Has the Book found youf 


Not as the Hebrew prophet rose 
In flaming chariot to the ricj. 

Do we, as our life journeys cloee^ 
Magnificently die. 

No wind in rising currents whirled. 
No flying steeds of splendid fire^ 

Lift us from out this Jangling world 
Up to the heavenly choir. 

And yet the humblest sons of men 
May pass away from mortal Tlev 

In chariots as grand to ken 
As that Elijah knew. 

For thoughts of loving .tendernees. 
And helpful deeds that never tlre^ 

And words that soothe and cheer and 
Are chariots of Are. 

To such a soul, as up it flies, 

With beams of heavenly glory Ut. 

Elijah hastens down the skies 
To meet and welcome it 


Poor, empty-eyed beggar! It*s Uttle 9 

What you ask when you ask for **tbe prtee 

a drink.** 
No paltry five cents and no dime will sdA 
For the price of a drink is a terrible prtaSi 

Qo, ask that poor vagalwnd there In the dltt 
Who once was a merchant, respected and rlc 
Inquire of the creature who just staforerfd I 
DeHpaIr in his spirit and death in his eye; 

Ask yonder sad womsn. whose desolate llffe 
Has drunk of all woeit — the inebriate's vH 
And queHtlon. O question that quivering ckt 
Just fi«Hl from a father drink-angry and «f 

The price of a drink, as they all will 

Is the pride of the upright, the joy of 1 

It's empIoym«>nt ami confidence, comfort • 

The honor of frlen<ls and the trenanre 


The price of a drink, as they sadly will tcB 
Is a sorrowful earth and a horrible hell. 



For the soul of the drunkard is foal as his 

And he dies at the last to an infinite death. 

The price of a drink ? Though I gave you to 

It is you pay the price of the liquor, not I. 
O brother, turn, turn from the perilous brink, 
And never more proffer the price of a drink ! 


The time was Carboniferous, 

The place was by the shsre. 
Some molecules vociferous 

Of Fe 8O4 
Induced a little conifer 

To take them in her stem. 
Letting go the blood and bone of her. 

And making room for them; 
Until the plant ridiculous 

Was a fossil, — nothing more, — 
All ))ecause of that iniquitous 

Shrewd Fe SO4. 

*Twas the time of Homo Sapient, 

The place. — a library. 
Some dusty tomes of weight immense 

By subtle sorcery 
Induced a great philosopher 

To take them in his brain. 
Rejecting, you of course infer, 

Its former contents vain, 
Until the sage rapacious 

Became, one summer day, 
A leather-backed veracious, 

Encyclope-di-a ! 

For the coming teeth must chew 
Many meals of bitter rue. 
And their sorrows come in view 
As their first teeth go. 

Yes, but grand teeth come instead. 

When the first teeth go. 
Strong for meat and white for bread. 

When the first teeth go ; 
Though the crust is hard and dry. 
Health and power in it lie, 
And there's better by and by; 

Let the first teeth go ! 


It is infancy's old age 

When the first teeth go; 
It's the turning of the page 

When the first teeth go; 

It's farewell to merry youth 

With its innocence and truth. 

With its tenderness and ruth. 

When the first teeth go. 

There are novelties of pain 
When the first teeth go; 

Quick to lose and slow to gaiOt 
When the first teeth go ; 

Ugly vacancies appear. 

New and lisping tones we hear, 

'Tis a most erratic year 
When the first teeth go. 

Ah, the sober thoughts we think 
When their first teeth go. 

And the rising tears we wink 
When their first teeth go I 


The Moan of Many a Man. 

I don't mind the work. 
The regular job. 
The things I can do. 
And know how to do. 
And get used to it. 

It's not this that frets. 
And hinders and pulls. 
And puts out of joint. 

It's extras I mind. 
It's this and it's that 
I don't know about. 
And cannot plan for, 
And do not expect. 

It's speeches to make. 
And nothing to say ; 
It's calls to return. 
And presents to give. 
And letters to write. 
Committees to meet. 
And bores I must hear. 
And quarrels adjust, 
And jealousies calm. 
And meetings for this. 
And meetings for that. 
And things I must do 
That no one wants done. 
That have to be done 
Because they're the thing. 

It's little things here. 
And little things there. 
That busy men do 
''Because, as you know. 
If you want a thing done, 
Tou go to a man 
Who has all he can do." 

I don't mind my work. 
My regular job. 
If that were just alL 
It's extras I mind. 
That take up my time, 



And eat up my strenffth. 
And never say "thanks.** 

And heaven, I think. 
Will Just be a place 
Where each man will do 
Uls Job — and no more. 


Have you seen the ani^ela 

FlashinfT from the skies? 
Have you Keen the glimmer 

As they fall and rise? 
Where the sick and anguished 

Pray for swift release. 
Have you seen the angels 

Bringing Joy and peace? 

Havo you 8i>en the angels 

Float in pity <Iown 
Where the pallid workers 

Drudge in field and town? 
Where th«' worn and weary 

Faint at Toil's commands, 
Have you seen the angels 

Strengthening their hands? 

Have you S4>en the angels 

StMMHt in eag<>r flight 
Where the flends of evil 

flattie with the right? 
llavf» you seen thi* angels 

Stretch protecting arms, 
FortH'SMing (lod'H children 

Fn»m those threatening harms? 

Oh. with eyes of m>«*lng 

Note the angelM near ! 
It will stay yiiur worries. 

it will end your fear. 
It will ithow you heaven 

Never far a way, 
(■mrH bright angels treading 

Every common way. 


"Here Is the 4'lty: and what shall It l>e?'* 
Wealthy, antl rIghtiMiuH. and giM>dIy to 

*'liow shall the nty l>e shining and fair?'* 
Wealth in to tind its M'curlty there. 

**Whnt Ih the Mifety and sunshine of wealth?" 
Spirit In rlghte«>usnesit. body In health. 

•'I'oTerty, f'gUness. Kvll arrun*ed. 
All ti> l»e iMinlsbed. but which of them flrst r* 

All of them first : they'rr a unit, those three: 
Wealthy, and righteous, and guodlj to 


Still the heart and stay the br««th — 
There's a deeper death than demth ! 
This is death, when living aoal 
Yields to deadly sin*a control ; 
When, beneath the devH's arts, 
Ix>ve, the light of life, deiMirts: 
When the body, moving stUI, 
Bears about a lifeless will. 
And the spirit, formed to liae 
Ever-growing in the skies, 
Im a dead and empty seed : 
This, ah. this is death indeed ! 

Rich the years, with fruitage rife — 
There's a higher life than life! 
This is life, when spirits preas 
Into every nobleness ; 
When on failure and defeat 
Power sets his lordly seat : 
Wh(«, although the body fall. 
Spirit energies prevail. 
And the world Iteholds a man 
After tlie <*reator*s plan. 
Soul from all Its Umdage freed ; 
This. ah. this is life indeed ! 

Hear the resurrection cry : 
Dying, 3'et you shall not die! 
C'hrlHt is He that conquereth 
All this de«'|)er death than death ; 
("hrist. fnmi out of mortal strife. 
Won thin higher life than life — 
Wins it through eternity. 
Just for you and Just for me. 


He had paHs«Hl the cup of the wine of love 
In the feast of the rp|>er K<M>m : 

He had gone, with the imschal moon above. 
To the depths of the Oanlen gloom. 

And there on the milemn shaded ground 

Where the anrlent olives grow, 
AnothiT goblet the Saviour found. 

The cup of the d«M'|M»st woe. 

The wine of that g(»l>let wss black as deatll 

And bitter with ancient sin. 
And horribly foul was the fetid breath 

Of the liquor that funitil within. 

And they who had drunk In the citj of lig:hl 

Ah the cup of I«ive He p«»ured. 
Stupidly slept In the (Sarden's night. 

Nor thisight i>f their anguished l^rd. 

o Saviour, who gIveHt our human 
The cup of Thy love *i rare. 

In <fethsi>mane's shadow be ours the 
The cup of Thy woe to share ! 




"Mamma," said Catharine sadly, 

"Which wav do you want me to go? 
For to-day you called me a backward child, 
And to-day you called me a forward child, 
And how can they both be so?" 


Do I not hate them, O Lord, that hate 
thee?— P$. 139:21, 

Hate is divine if hate is bent 
Only on Hatred's hateful face ; 

Curses are good when they are sent 
On maledictions base. . 

Is he a friend of God, forsooth, 

\Vho weakly numbers with his friends 

The vile antagonist of truth 
All hot for evil ends? 

He is against that is not for 

Our Jealous God, our regnant Christ, 

And as an act of open war 
Indifference has suffic(>d. 

God's lights are we, recjuired to beat 

The hosts of darkness back ; 
Shall we lie grovelling at their feet 

And melt into the black? 


'The autumn leaves are falling down !*' 
The long-faced poet cries ; 
But would he have them falling up. 
And cluttering the skies? 


When the blossom from the sun 

Turns its head away, 
Not for it do sunbeams run 

Through the shining day. 

When the blossom turns again 
To the sun's bright face. 

The forgiving sunlight then 
Pours its golden grace. 

When the round earth turns aside 

Into winter's cold. 
How the merry blossoms hide, 

How the world grows old ! 

When the earth again in spring 

To the sun returns. 
How all heaven's pardoning 

Leaps and laughs and yearns! 

So when hearts of human kind 
Turn from God away, 

Gloom and misery they fin«^ 
Darkening the day. 

But if they will turn again 
And their God adore, 

As in nature, so in men. 
All is well once more. 


Deeply and long the sap must flow 
Ere the merest layer of elm can grow. 

Many a wave's recurrent shock 

Is needed to smooth the tiniest rock. 

Thousands of leaves must fade and fall 
To make the mold by the garden wall. 

Thus, as the patient seasons roll, 
Slowly is fashioned a human soul. 

Purpose and failure and purpose still. 
Steadily moved by a quiet will, — 

Layer on layer in sturdy way, 
Hardly se«'n the growth of a day, — 

Times cf failure and fear and fall. 

But one strong tendency through it all,- 

God and purpose and sun by sun 
Reach the stars before they are done! 


Young men's counsel breathes desire, 
Ardent passion, raging Are. 

Old men's counsel utters truth. 
Governing the tires of youth. 

Young men's counsel leaps on hig^, 
Like a rocket in the sky. 

Old men's counsel will be found 
Firmly fixed upon the ground. 

Young men's counsel bravely dares. 
And a lordly front it wears. 

Old men's counsel, brave yet wise. 
Tests its wings before It flies. 

Young men's counsel looks afar 
Where the shining mountains are. 

Old men's counsel seeks to know 
Safest ways and best to go. 

Young men's counsel, over-bold, 
Grasps a prize, but does not holcf. 

Old men's counsel, rich in deeds. 
Plans, persists, and then succeeds. 



t morning 
All Kldriona with remrrectlon Ugbt, 
BeyoDd tlie mlgbt of men Bud evil acornlDKi 
How would mj »oul have met the aplenilli] 

Would I have hastened eater to adote Dim, 
Hy iplrlt caught to rapture strangely 

WoDld I h«Te ran to Uy my heart betor* 

Would I have lallen trembling at ht« teetf 

Or would a midden tear have held me rigid. 
And would my bIdi have been a barrier 
And would my doubt* have bound me itUt 
and [rigid 
Id Hullen coldnen while the Lord paued hyl 

I need q< 

tor still my Lord comet neai 
TictoriouB from the grsTe: 

I bli eager hand* n 

All day* are Baater days, and bring the teat 

0( lower calls and aummoDs from above. 
O haste, my soul, anharrled 

and unresting. 
To meet the Lord Q[ life 
Bad claim His lore. 




The bollow-Bounding trump of fame 
M<iy never magnify your name, 
Nor even iu the small renown 
Of auy close-encircled town 
May men exalt your praises high 
To All a little, local sky. 

But evermore and evermore, 

To Time's n^motest. firmest shore. 

Though ail the storms of life may beat. 

Your fame will tind a safe retreat, 

A haven sure and undeflled. 

Within the memory of your child. 

Ah, let It be your constant care 
That this your fame may all be fair. 
That only what is kind and wise 
Your child may thus immortalize. 
And carry through eternity 
The parent you would like to be ! 

A Humble Request of the Modern Mamma. 

Dear Modern Mamma, if you please, 

rd like to take the baby. 
ril hold my breath, nor cough, nor sneeze. 

If I may bold the baby. 
As one who fully understands 
The law of gernin and its commands 
I've disinfecte*! lK>th my hands — 

And may I hold the baby? 

I will not kiss the precious thing. 

If I may hold the baby ; 
And only Tennyson I'll sing. 

If I may bold the baby. 
I will not r<ick It, cradlewise, 
I will not torn* It If it cri<Mi, 
I will not twist my mouth or eyes, 

If I may hold the baby. 

By IVstaloKzl I will walk. 

If I may bold the baby. 
I'll not Inilulge in l>a!»y talk. 

If I may hold the baby. 
With placid Itrow and mouI serene 
I'll talk of (ireek, and IMebicene, 
And It will gather all I mean. 

I'l««s4\ may I hold the baby? 

I'll Kive It nothing good to eat, 

If I may hold thf> baby ; 
E9«pe<'iully. n«i horrid sw^s-t, — 

And may I hold the liaby? 
I loathe, abhor, the anrlent use 
Of Mrs. Winslow's MMithing Juice, 
ril banish her. with Mother Gooae, 

If I may hold the baby. 


When the winds of trouble blow. 

When the tempests roar, 
When the angry waves of woe 

Break upon the shore. 
Let me know that (lod is near. 

Let me still rejoice. 
Let me in the tem|>«st hear 

The still, small voice. 

When the earthquake rends the rock* 

When the world is torn. 
When in sudden, awful shock 

Men and nations mourn. 
Let me know that God abides. 

Even then rejoice. 
Since in every earthquake hide* 

The still, small voice. 

When the world is all aflame 

With a sweeping fire. 
When GtMl's wrath and human shame 

Burn with dreadful ire. 
Let me know God's love to men. 

Let me still rejoice. 
Gladly hearing, even then. 

The still, small voice. 


God of law, whose mighty form 
Rears the mountain, sways the storm* 
Bowed beneath Thy Just decree. 
Whither shall I turn from Thee? 

I will turn, O Crucined, 

To the ri'fuge of Thy side. 

From my sins that bleed and bum. 

To Tby bleeding cross I turn. 

I have tested human skill. 
Human lov«* and human will. 
All devices of t!ie brain. 
Reason, honor — all arc vain. 

Prom my self with all its woes. 
Shameful prey of shameful foes, 
Lo. I turn — how eagerly I — 
Chri.Ht, my ln-tter self, to Thee. 

Field and forest, sea and sir, — 
All the earth Is very fair. 
Ket*n ambition's crafty art 
Binds the world upon my heart. 

Rut in Thee. O Christ ! I And 
All ennoblings of the mind ; 
Fount of all for which I yearn, 
Christ, O Christ, to Thee I turn. 


Nearly all of the poems not credited in this index to some periodical were 
originally published in the paper I edit, The Christian Endeavor World. 
The pictures are all by the late Hiram Putnam Barnes, except that on 
page 34, which is by Charles D. Hubbard. 

•Abide in Me, and I in You" 177 

Sunday School Times 

"Above the Heavens" 69 

Sunday School Times 

Absolute Monarch, The Wide Atcakc 50 

Acknowledgments to the British Navy . . 83 


Addition 27 

Advice about Your Stocking 122 

Advice to the Wood Tewee 235 

After the War Life 45 

••Agree with Thine Adversary Quickly," 12 

Alarms 97 

All on Account of the Baby 145 

Alternative, The Judge 248 

Ambitious Ant, The St, Nicholas 94 

Ambitious Kangaroo. The ..St. yicholaa 108 

Ambulance, The 31 

American Puzzle, The 110 

Anachronism of War, The 142 

Anaesthesia 180 

And When They All Meet! The Outlook 112 

Anticipation 21 

Apple Rough, An 15 

••Art Preservative, The" 74 

Asphalt : a Parable 199 

Athanasia 230 

Attack on the President, The 144 

Autumn Moving, An Forward 114 

Bargain, The 174 

Barkeeper, The . . Young People's Weekly 162 

Bath of Crowds, The 232 

Battle Song, A 29 

Beauty That Knows 233 

Begin at Home 145 

Begin a Year To-day ! Forward 220 

Belated Memorial, A 141 

Belgian Bells 208 

Benevolent Boy, The St. Nicholas 52 

Bessie's Bonnet Judge 148 

Better than Beauty 181 

Betty's Blushes 223 

Bible I Remember, The 67 

Sunday School Times 
Bible-Lover's Thanksgiving, A 20 

Sunday School Times 


The Crippled Beggar Speaks, 17; One of 
the Nine, 18: Paul In Athens. SB; The 
Riot In Ephesus, 41; The Inn Thfft 
Missed Its Chance, 1S7; The Withered 
Hand— Whole, 149; "Borne of Four," 196. 

BIBLE PERSONS (see also "Bible Mono- 
ioguea") : 
Peter, 48; Zacchaeus. 61. 


When I Read the Bible Through, 8; 
The Sufficing Bible, 10; The Sixty-Six 
Books. 11; A Bible-Lover's Thanks- 
giving, 20; The Bible I Remember. 57; 
Their "Walk and Conversation," 67; 
The Walk, 69; The Four Gospels, 93; 
How to Read the Bible, 209; also many 
poems on Bible texts and themes. 

Billy Sunday, To 19 

Birches 'A2 

Bird Egotism 143 


Yellowthroat Witchery, 19; The Nest, 4 3; 
The Birds Discuss the Aeroplane. 59; 
Whip Poor Will. 75; The Catbird. 82; 
The Jaunty Jay, 86; The Ovenbird. 93; 
Friend Song-Sparrow, 99; Birds at 
Night, 105: The Scituate Bird. 139; 
Bird Egotism, 143; Hermit-Thrush Sex- 
tons, 159; Evolution lllrdward, 194; 
The Cheery Chewink, 195; Reveille. 20i; 
^'lr Oriole, 207; Advice to the Wood 
I*ewee, 235. 

Birds at Night 1(>5 

Birds Discuss the Aeroplane, The . .Life 59 

Bit of Good Work, A 89 

Vouii^ People's Weckl/f 

Blind Sunday School Times 117 

Blind Man Awakes in Heaven, The . 77 

Blindman'8 Bulf 238 

Blossoms of War, The Judge 93 

Bombardment after the War 180 

Bonds — and Bonds 55 


Old Books In Heaven, 66; "Something 
in Books," 115; The Parade of Books, 
166; Misapplied, 167; Books post Mor- 
tem. 167; The New Book. 200. The 
Scholar's Eden, 213; Books, Books. 
Books! 224. 

Books, Books, Books ! 224 

Books post Mortem Independent 107 

"Borne of Four" . . . .Christian Advocate 196 

Boston 198 

Boy's Superiority, A 48 

Brain 224 

Bread — and Butter Ram's Horn 87 

Brown's Vacation 206 

Building a Home 71 

Building Site, A 68 

"Buildings Tom Down" 109 

Burden-Bearer, The, Sunday School Times 9 

rnaaila anil th; UnitPd SlatP* . 
loi.(»-i fl 

Candlpd Dolr, The 

Cape Cud l*uii(h*i Ci 

I'ape <'ud Wood Iload, A 

Catbird. The Count 

■Catihlnic B Cald" 


Chain trayera 1 

Chain Chrlnllam Btrahl 

OhaUrDee to Vlitrty. A 

cbaoce UnllDlf, A I 

Cbaai for t^lrlota, A 1 

Cbarlotcer, The Outlook 1 

Cbivrlnis Dawu, A 1 

Cbe«r Cp ! 2 

CbwiT Chewlnk, The 1 

Ciarrf Coal. The Kant'* i/om 1 

CUMreT)''* KUk, The Iiitrprniail 1 

Cbuln- or the Star, The 



Ttngle. Thi- . . 

Chrlm i.r rnninia. TU* 

Chrl»|-ii Wiirtl* 

I'hiirrbi-ii* I'lilin, The . . . 

riir. Thr 

Chir IIIMhUm, A Lrtl 


(tlBal, Tb» 

CUaglOM Anmr. A llarjn 

..Kam-M Hunt D^ 

(MulkM rpob . . 

CumiHinitIre Degre*. The . . 
Cumpau ot KuilMior. The 
Cainpoclle PhotoiraiA, Tbe 
Cumprumlw, A 

Cuonrli'iillous Vutpr. The 1 

ConaervalliiD I'ark I 

CoDBlderaieCroCMlile. The ..Ml. .VlrAa.H 

('DUplrae7 of the Clolhea, Tbe I 

CIirlMllan Vnlom H>uU«Qk/ 
CoUDtrj— and Cuantrr . . . .Coimlrr Llfr S 

Country. Mj Coantrj t 

Oounlry of Freedom 

Coume of Regular Readlnc A S 

CreaiD of the Daj. The 1 

CredulDUH <-hlld. The 

Crippled Ueggat Speaki. The 

WrtlmlDttrr Tdorker 

Crisp of tbe Dar. The i 

CrtJNiu Dlacovcra 

"CroaalDE the Bar" £rrrvirlirrr 1 

I. Tbe . 

r Erm 

p of Ocean, The 123 

t AcroM I'DHlA'a CoH^aloa 1S3 

. . OhIIm* M 

Italntf DDK, Tbe . .. 

liBiiKemUB Don. The SI. .VIe*«lH 

Hay by Dnj 1 

"Dead udId Oln" 1 

IX-stb and LUe T»e Errrmttrr 3 


l>^inocrac7 at llaod 

IVparti^ Boot-Jark. The 3 

HldBdlc Poet. The 3 

Ilirt of Wonna, A. Siy Bnglctia MmgmUnt 1 

Ilimrult Ilennlliiin 2 

l>inciilt EtuIuIIuh Lift 

Illiruurae. The | 


niwoTery. A 1 

Iil>forii-»-<li:ii'n. A. Himdag Hekoat TImrt 1 

Uuclnr'a Iluly Ufe 3 

DoKtlag 111* Htepa 

I, Tbe . 


Ja4ar 103 


Itiinilkj'ii Iilnii'K-* 

l>raft. Th* 

Ilodler (tarirnt »■ A Tl 

IMMb-brtlii I'Mtfe'* CoaapwyMt M 

Uuika ul Ltawn, The m 

Bait and Eailer . 

..CkrUHan Brr*U 20ft 

', sot: Th« Euter 

Elliabetb Ijiuurl TbtlpB Wuril 1 

Batton Trantertpt 
Embnntattag QueitloD. Tbe Judgt 1 

St; molDg; Juilge 2 

"Even So, Come, Lord Jeiai" 

CDrlttUin HemU 
BTerUstlDg Peace, The. OoiwY|/atl<Hiali«t 
E*ll World, The » 

Ejeeervlce Ziom't Herald llS 

Figged Out LIfpineoirt MagaaiM 129 

Failure Youllf Companion Sll 

Fatlurel BMnOav Bctiaol Tltnri 48 

F»l In : FoTtoard 216 

Falar Blgnall Suaian Bchaot TImm 100 

Fufalon Plalei ITS 

Fatber In School, The 44 

YpuHff People'* Weetlu 

Fttt tl/« 4.1 

Fiiberii of Men . . .BuHOau School Timet 14 

FlshHir-Wnr. Thp 10« 

Flaicmen, Tbe 30 

Flight, The 40 

Flowery St. AlcAolw 73 

Fljluj! fldQlrrel. The f-onrard 77 

Foollih Flamingo, Tbe 8t. Sicholat V2 

Fool's WlHh, A 222 

ForeBl and Newspaper . . Harptr't Wecklu SO 

Formal Oarden. Tbe Buburban Lift ISS 

Fortbirom Your Past. OhrittiOH dteocale SO 

Forty Cents A Vi-sr 127 

Forty WlDki of Sleep HO 

Forward ! 186 

FonlU lAfe 243 

Four BUli, Tbe Puck 240 

Foar <}ospel8. The Forvard 93 

FcagmPDUry 61 

PranceB E. Wlllard 163 

Frnnlt L. litairfon, To Tl 

Frrsh Air .Vnty* CompaMon 97 

Fri*nd Song-Sparrow 99 

From Uj Hoapllal Window 22 

OardrD-Glow 238 

Oarden of Uorpbla. The 226 

Oarlandi ChritNan B«nU 139 

O. A. R. to A. E. F. Ute 221 

Gatea Are Down, The Rom'* Bom 36 

Gates of Zlon, The 1 

General Booth. To 

George Mflller 1 

Getters and Givers ..CArlstlos Adrocale 1 
Getting to tbe Bottoqi of Ttaiags OK(Ioot 1 

<;ii.,Mt "f n I'Vjir. The 1 

<;?fto(Tliue, The 1 

4 arts, The wide Airatc 1 

<)1vvr, Tlie Sundair School Time* 1 

 ilve the Hague a Chance 1 

Gladstone 1 

Goal, Tbe 

God's Enemies flan'* Horn 2 

Ood's Eyes 1 

..81. McMoIoa 162 Xinholat 124 

"(tod rity the Poor!" 
God Save the World . 

God'i Quiet 

Going : Going ! 


Golden Freedom 

Good. Belter, Beat .. . 
Good Girl. The ■.-' 
flood Sleep. A 
Gooae Explaloa, The . . 
"Gospel Hardened" • . 

Got 1 

Great, Strong. Free, and Tme 

Greek BanlHbed from the Schools 

QreeD rrarrller'a Record 1 

Gueit-Tokeo, Tbe 2 

Gulls, The 1 

Had Lincoln Lived .. .Chrittiam Advooale 

Ilnlluwi'd Moulb, The 

Uujjpy New Y.-ar, A I 

Have You Found Ihe Bible TAe Eiccullre 2 
UaveYouSeentlieAneelK The ^jrrni lire 2 
llradBChcs Fully Biplalned 1 

d Maaatine 1^ 


HeaWb-s Elites S'ea EngiaM 

lleallh to Horace Fletcher, A 

Bsart of tbe l>eap]e Is Itlght, Tbe 

Heart Songs and Home Songs 1 

Hearty Hen. Tbe at. A'IcAoIm 

Helper. ^ ^ HouitKl/e 1 


p Air . 


-He ftald. In Pari" Pact 2 

He Took Time to Ule . .narper'i WeeUg 
Hlgglnaoii. Thomas Wentworth 

fiortoii Trantcripl 

"nieh Cod of Uvlng, The" 2 

Higher CrltlcUm flam's Bom 1 

HIgb Tide btllnealor 1 

□la Coming 1 

His Miracle Wtttmdmatcr Teacher 

"Hitting the Sawdust Trail" 

Hobaon's Choice i 

Hold On a While 2 

IloiDM. tttrr tbe W«r I 

Home from tkbool H'Uc A-wHe 

Hone Ilerolim Qood HoatrktepiKg 

Juit • Uttle Bit at Babr IM 


U.iiiBo r.f IMLii. The I 

Row « Cake of Boap Saved Madagaicar i 

How Bl([? Jitiff" 1 

Hoir«. Julia Ward ...Botloit TratucHpt 

Iluwclla't Uamea * 

Muw Stronn Arc You 1 

Hiiw ibe Nrwi CaiDF U'lde Airate 

Huw Thej CoDJUKale "to IUtp" 

youth's COMplllllaN 

How to Bp <lrwi]aw«rii 

How (o Kt-ad tbe Bible 2 

Huw to Swim Young Fnptt I' 

tlumOiigB "/» I 

"llupt a liuny Man" 1 

Hurry nnil Sp.*.l fil. Mrfcola* 

Hymn of Brotherbooil, A 1 

IlymD ol Hate and Ixire, Tbe 

Ilymo of tbe WIldenirH 1 

ChrlKtlaH Atvprntr 
Hymn of TotDlng. A, Cfiritlian Adi-ocale S 

. .CangrcgaUOHalM 241} 

■Til B 


-l-ll Try- 
Impromptu Hpeecbei Jadct I 

Inalli-iiBble 1 

iDdriH'ndenee 1 

In My Tonpie 

inn Tbat Mlwwit Its Chance, Tbe I 

^■Nilair Krhaal TImft 

Innulry. An PHIorM Wrrtig I 

In-ld^ rhf Shell 1 

iDnumola ^ 

Inntant IWlli-vlnR 

Id tbr C'i.rti.'r 

Id th<- Ihirk Ituum - 

In the Wilderni-H 

I rark My Tniiik 

"I Waltiil I'alienliy for Ihr l^iird" . . . 

■I Will Build Tb«- an ili.uiu-- 

Suniap Hrhoot Tim 

KIdk rommllt(« . . . 
-KlDRdom of lleavf 
"KlDgdom of Heaie 


1 In at Hand. Tbe" 
I !■ Sear Yoa. The" 1 

CHrittlait AdTOetta 

I^dy of Roarnerk, The . 

"I«n|cley'a Folly" 

L. Bond. ItecrultlDg Senr 
LeogtheDlDS Uneii. Tbe 

l*n(ttb o( Life, Tbe 

loiter ~ 

..Forward 1<>T 

. .Clirltlla» Hn 


I«l(era I Hire Not Sent . 



Liliea of the Valiey 

Lincoln Tent, The 

LinEerlDR l^ok, Tbi 

Uquld Air 

Uterary Orl.lK, A . 

IJterary Drudee. Tbe 

Llltle ttae Bnrkwl at the Bnicn'. The , , - 

IJve Wire. A 

IJrtnit il-IH". A 

Ijioely IJnn. The . . . 

"I^onl !■ a Sbletd, Tbr 

J'reebVli'rfOM Sam 

I^ord Will Provide. The Bam't Bi 


IcJMlM 14« 

 Uavninc itiiBirv't 

'■ TbankxelTiDk. The 

 Trial lUlai 

l.urky KuiirlMved t 
Ijire of Ituada. The . 

Marob bikI the M'a 

liver ..TkrOMtlMt B» 

. .Tlie ContUtfmt II* 

, .llam't Ham 00 

May I II'iliI II 


JnhD Allien'* Ihvani . 

>. :«Si Kail In! tit. 

Howtlla. ZM. 

Hen of tbe Milne. Tbe 1 

Hetbod and Deed i 


HIne, The 

Minlne tbi BuQStilne 2 

UlrandB'a Lunf hea I^ck I 

Mlupplled The En 1' 

UiKr'B Altprnailve. The 


Ul«»krn A Di^mu metier. The Judft I 

Mohaoimedaa Letaoii, A 1 

HoralDE Hue on DerweDtwatet 

HornlDK WaU, A Barpar'a Weetly 1 

MornlDK Wludowi . 
Moaqutto Netting . 

rw— imdOthere . 

Uauntain and Prairie 1 

Mouth of Ihe Lord. Tli* Intrpendenl 

Movlug o-t tbe Aulbora Club, Tbe 1 

BadDN Herald 

Ht. ( Life 2 

Ura. Kipllni; IIpIiI Up to M; Wife 2 


Muntclpal Chrlitmaa Tree, Tbe 

HuDlclpal RpConn, A Outlook 1 

Uj Alarm Clock 1 

Hr Bed EeHbner't Magastne 1 

Ur Bulletin Board 1 

Hr Burden OhrUtian AdvoDaU 1 

Uj Cloud . 

. .Wide iiealt 38 

Uy Goods 

Hj Little Olrl'aTlBDd ConareoaHoHttllit 1 
Itf fien Birthday Bundau School Timet 

UyOld Clotbei Piirt 1 

iSy Old aboea 2 

Myaptle Kucha to loKf Judfft 1 

Hj Orflior SiiKdnw Behael riMea 1 

Mr raal Wblch la to Conw 

My frojer 1 

My Pninlae 1 

My Quirt Honra 1 

Hy Safety Raior 113 

"My aoul Dotb MaiDlty ths Lord" .... es 

Hyitery, Tbe 201 

Hyatlc. Tbe ITS 

Naocy Talking to tbe Nnrae 227 


How a Cake of Saai> Stvtd Uadmsaacar, 
63; TMb L,a4y of Roieneik, »1; The Nlir 
□f the NewH. Vi-. Those DIcklna. ISl; 

Nation and World M 

Natton'a Conrage, Tbe 114 

Natural Inquiry, A Deltntator 2*5 

□ iler 

, The 

. 1S3 

. 238 

..Life 43 



Nelglihor Cblckor 

Neat Tbe 


New Book. Tbe 

New England Wood* 13 

Sete Bngtand llaoaiine 

New Glory rou(h'« CompatHoit ia» 

Newtboy Reform. A St. SIchota* D4 

New Songs 122 

Newspaper Mirror, Tbe 210 

Newapapera The Conllnent lOS 

New Tear, A 208 

New Year'B Btrda 120 

New Year Mine 100 

Ntsbt for Sleep. The 88 

Nliy of the NeWB, The »R 

No EacBpe 107 

Nonsense SaBK Bt. KlOiotai 108 

Norlhern Llshl Churthman 97 

Not A -Mnde-Over" Year 23 

"N'ol OS the World Olveth" 80 

N'oUonal Nightingale St- Xleholat «8 

Now'a the Time 8S 

Old Ui-a'H Co<iii»el TKe Ertcutive 24& 

Old Mr. llrumpy » 

OinlDuus On)l»«iou, An lAfe 88 

On a Cortsln Conversalloa 190 

On DoHlon Codjdioo SO 

On CerUIn AdJectHei 180 

On Certafn Limitations of tbe Rellglona 

Pres* 184 

OnDeoPmber 21 118 

One Artlat, The . .LippincoU'i Magaxitte S8 

One tJnj'a Bervlee 42 

One IHinr Face. The 21S 

One Hundred Per Cent 1«» 

One Kind of t*iiR I.Ke !» 

One Life at A Time /ndepwdntl 87 

Oncof the Nine .8v»dav Bdtoot Tim f '" 

"On t 

"One Thing I Do" 

. 108 



One Thing Sure 77 

On to Berlin ! Life 227 

Opening. The 73 

OptlmUt and Pessimist 106 

Optimistic Skipper, The ...8t. Nicholas 206 

Oracular Owl. The tit. Mcholaa 117 

Oratorical Difficulty. An Life 85 

Originality 185 

••Other Man." The 21 

Other Side. The 78 

Our Alabaster Box 90 

Our Chariots The Executive 242 

Our Country's Destiny 209 

Our Education Wide Atcake 23 

•Our Imperial Policy" 96 

Our l/esson 38 

Our Lord's One Writing Pilgrim Teacher 55 

Our Seven Wonders 168 

Outdoor Peace 37 

Ovenblrd, The Youth'a CompanUm 93 

Over the Sky 25 

Pan-America Life 41 

l*arade of Books. The 166 

Parcel Post. The 213 

Partners. The Youth'a Cotnpanion 74 

Past Minding 54 

Patent Applied for Hanta Claua 109 

Paternal Advice Puck 239 

Path In the Sky. The. Youth'a Companion 103 

Patriotic Paradox. The 178 

PATKIOTIC (see also '•Memorial Day." 
"Spaniah-Amerlcan War." and "World 
Old Qlory, 11: Great, Stronfc, Free, and 
True. IS; Country of Freedom. 88: 
Nation and World. 90: My Country, fl; 
The nioMoms of War. 93: Liberty. 126; 
What the Plasa Said. Hi: The Attack 
on the President. 144: I'nlted States. 
1C3: The Patriotic Paradox. 178; A Chant 
for Patriot*. 184; A Hymn of Brother- 
hood. 186: The People's Prayer. 188: 
Canada and the United States. IKii; 
A Rainbow Enstfn. 218: The White 
House. 221: Country — and Country, 240. 

I*aul in Athena . . . Weatminater Teacher 35 

I»ea«e 236 

"Peace on Earth" 210 

Pearl. The 144 

Pen. The 138 

People. Th«' 228 

P«Hiple*a Prayer. The 1H8 

Perfect Fo»tlval. The 183 

Perlacopen 22r> 

Permaneniv 39 

-Personal I.lherty" 136 

Petals 2:M» 

Peter Wratmiuiiter Trachtr 4K 

l*tayBlclan. The American Mraarngcr lt»7 

IMllow FalrLs I7r» 

Plllow-Stufflnir '.n) 

rioneen of the Air 171 

••PUce of a Skull. The" 69 

Plea, A se 

Plane Statement, A 84 

Playing Etominoes 8t. NieholoM 137 

Plod, Plod. Plod ! Ram'a Horn 64 

Poem to Fill Up a Page, The. . CriteHon 167 
Poet and the Rest of Creation, The .... 124 

Pointed Discussion, A 200 

••Porous to the Divine" 7R 

Postal Savings Judge 19^ 

Potent Past, The IKg 

Practical Life 222 

Praise for (Jod 13 

Pray ! 184 

Prayer for Song. A 95 

Prayer for the President 208 

Prayer Meeting, The 234 

Prayer-Meeting Leader, The 33 

Pray for Me Zion'a Herald 41 

Preach to Them 212 

President Speaks. The Judge 206 

President Who Does It All, The 12i> 

Price of a Drink The Young People 242 

Problem in Physiology, A 47 

Profit Afoot Young People's Weekig 12 

Progress IS 

Prospectus. A . . .New England Magazine 148 

Proud Pebble. The 216 

Psalm for the Times, A 177 

Psalm in the Night, A 54 

Sundag School Timea 

Puppy, A Life 131 

Purpose Young People 245 

Put on the Shoe ContnregaHonaMUt 40 


Di'clphered.' 97; The Mystic. 179; Ths 
Potent Fast. 188; The Real Mlracls. 188: 
Two Baths. 189; A WMll for a Will. 2«7. 

Rainbow Ensign, A 218 

RalnlKiw Foundation, A . . . . Wide Awmke 160 

Rainy Day. A 53 

Real EsUte Puck 16 

Real Miracle. The 188 

Reason Why. The Outlook 120 

Rebuilding. The . . .Sunday School Times 8 

Recipe for a Day. A 153 

Chriatian Vnion (Outlook) 

Recipe for a Good Letter Paneg 1T4 

Recipe for a Good Year A 108 

Reclpt' for a Merry Christmas, A 124 

Recomm*>ndation. A 190 

Requitals 155 

Retributlou 150 

Reveille. The 901 

R. F. D.. The Youth'a Compmniom 101 

Rhode Island Independent 20 

Rhyming Judge 1T2 

Rift. The 100 

Riot In KphestiN. The 41 

M'ratminatcr Teoeher 

Riot of Meadows. A t 

Rise : Sundag School Tim^ea ITO 

Bock. TbF 

Rock ftDd the Sand, The . 

Boom Overbead, The .... 


Ro*e ol War. Tbe 

Boate (or tbe P 


Sabbath of tbe Snow, The .. 
SalDt of Many NamcB, The . 

Bam Walter Kobh 

Bntiafled Love "" 

'■ Silent^ 

, The 

Sajlbg and Dolog 

Scholar^ Eden, The * 

Scholar In Polttlc*. The 1 

Science, Help I Evervtehert 1 

Scltnate Bird. The. CoantrKtIde llagaiint 1 

"Bea !■ Hli. The" 

Sea Ulat. The Initpmitnt 1 

bii- . .llHiHeif'ai(a0a2lne 

a from tbe Pew In Front, A 

Berraut'a Itewnrd, Tbe 

Shadow ChrUtlan Rtgltter 


ShakeBpeare'i Sllencea 

hell. 1 


Sidney Lanier 

Sir Oriole 

8lit7->li Books.Tbe.Siindaii School Timet 

Skr Blooms 


Snall'a Pace. The St. SIcholat 

Some Dbj a Love Song 

Some One Elue 

Queatloni for Saint Valentine'! 

Dar . 

Sons of Da; and Night, A 2 

Song of Faith. A 

Song of owing. A Initptndenl 

Song of tlerova. A 

Song of Our Notion 1 

Song of f^banie anil Ilunor. A I 

Bong ot the Lawn-lf ower, The 

Ulttt FoOst 

ingof VonngCbrlatlsna. A, Indtpcndtnt 163 

tniUHKl 217 

innet Adilrt-nrg Vera Libre, Tbe 1» 

junrlie, 117^ The i 

Sonl of Peter Oarcla, The . 

Steadr Weather . . 
Slepheaaon of the 


ilooi Timet 

outh'i Canpanlon 
. ..nte BxeealUt 24-1 

Stop Me ; Omlleok 

StoFT of Two Speechea 

Strange Gariuent A 1 

Street Face. A UppJncotCa Magarine 1 

Streeta In the Sea. The . . . ; 2 

Struggle . 
Samel ng Bible. 1 

tdav School Ttm, 

Saelt-sihaa ::■ the Seiiaot. A 

Suitor. The 

Snnda; School, The 

Bandar Song. A 

Sandlul.ConBclenlluuH Objector, The .. 

e thrc 

igh the Treea . 



Temple, The ^^ 

Ten New Committees 172 


Praise for God. 13; A Bible-Lovtr's 
ThanksgivinK. 20; A Thanks^lvinc Lit- 
any. 152; ThankBKlvlng Deferred. 156; 
Thanksgiving for Thanksgiving, 158. 

Tbaoksffiving Deferred 156 

Thanksgiving for Thanksgiving 158 

Thanksgiving Litany 152 

That Automatic Pun 216 

Their Chance 232 

Their "Walk and Conversation" 67 

Theodore Uooseveit Independent 143 

Theoretic Turtle, The tit. Mehola§ 84 

The Will : The Will I 89 

Thoy Sung a Hymn 188 

Thief and Giver 1H7 

Things : Things ! Things I 60 

This Beautiful Earth 2;{5 

Thorn in the Flesh, The 180 

Those Dickins 101 

Three Hard Words 184 

Three Laws, The 124 

Three Measures .. . .Hunday tivhool Timca 23 

Through the Needle's Eye 149 

Thumb, The Foncard 38 

Thunder-storm. The 219 

Thy Kingdom Come 93 

Time Table. The Puck 1,"»0 

Time to (iet Keady. The . . .^Vide Auruke 104 

Time Will Come. The 153 

Tip to Poets, A Indtpcndent 164 

** Tls I ; Be Not Afraid" 1K8 

To a City-Park S<|uirrel 63 

To a Lady Smoking Life 130 

To a Voung Couple 10 

To Buftling Reformers 47 

To C. I), (ilbfion Life 146 

**To Cure Bhishes" 43 

To Dr. Francis N. I»Houl>et 67 

To tJunt<m 230 

To Joseph Parker Independent 169 

To I^ndrrH 31 

Toms To<.fh Little Folkt 140 

To .My Wife 231 

T«)0 Busy 173 

To One Who Would Be a P<Mt 2;J5 

Tw Tired to Pray 213 

To the •'BefUKeeV of tli«' Boston Au- 
thors «'lub 76 

Tom'er P«ral>b\ A Forward 170 

To W. W.. in Hast.' Life 81 

Transfiguration, The. Chrittian Advocate 56 

Transforniation 2<»9 

"Transportation Situation. The" ...Life 86 

TravelU-r. The 74 

"Treasure in Ileaveu" i:«» 

Troubleil l»ny. A IJM 

True New Yorker. The 1M7 

True Preacher. The. Hunday Hrhool Timea 49 

True l*rok'rei«?«lveii Indtprndmt l'.»l 

Tni8t of Buyeri*, A Frtrywhere 151 

Trusts, The 34 

Turning Back The Exerutire 245 

Twice in the Year lOS 

Two Baths IKli 

Two-Cent Stamp. A 229 

Two Doctors, The lOS 

Two Pits. The 172 

Two Scales. The Life 74 

United States Life 80 

I'nlte<l States 162 

Unlucky Urchin, The iit. Sicholaa 76 

Valentine, A 17 

Valentine to J. T. Trowbridge. A «5 

Veterans, Teach Us ! 78 

Victim. The 224 

Visitor. The 37 



Waiting Atnerican Meatemyer 

Waiting Peace, The 

Waiting Sea. The 

Waiting Words 

Walk. The fiunday School Timrw 

"Walk in Love" Pamaft 

Wanderings of a li<>wtldered Soul, The 

Century Maffozine 

Wanted, a Start 

Warnings Ram'a Horn 

"Wave of Progress. A" 

Way to Travel, The Judge 

Weather Report, A 

Weather Within 

Wedding Garment, The 

Weetls al)ove the Snow 

"We Have with Us To-night" 

Weighty Matter, A 

Were I the Sun tit. \icholaa 

What < an We Do ? 

What lie ProfeBses Light 

WhaJ If? Judge 

What Is "a <;<kk1 Trust"? 

What Is a Revival ? 

What Marches? rhriatian Adrorate 

Whafs the Score? Life 

What the Flag* Said 

What Roosevelt Said Oncf» at Harvard .. 
What We Want from Mr. Taft . . .Judge 


When Compliments Pay Best 

When I Read the Bible Through 

Sunday School Timea 

When Nerves Are D«>ad 

When Papa Drives 

When the Anirt N (*ome> 

When the Doctor Calls the SurgiHio 

Christian Adrocnte 
When the First Teeth (Jo . . .Ererytrhrre 
When tlie Fr(»Mt Is in the Ground 


































When the Newspapers Have Nothing Bet- 
ter to Do 204 

When the People Get to Thinking 78 

When to Criticise 45 

When We Have Lost a Friend 192 

Where? 86 

Where Fame Is Sure 248 

Ladies* Home Journal 

Where Love Has Been 144 

While We Have Them 43 

Younff People' 9 Weekly 

Whip Poor Will 75 

White House. The Life 221 

Who Killed the Plan ? 125 

Whole Seas Over 108 

Why? 220 

Why Not To-day ? 156 

Wide Views 222 

Wife's Poem, The 36 

Will for a Will, A 207 

William E. Johnson 136 

Window, The Sunday School Timet 153 

Winter Dawn 51 

Wlntergreen CountryBide Magazine 49 

Wireless Telegraphy 206 

Wlsh-Wlshln' 230 

Withered Hand — Whole, The 149 

Sunday School Timet 

Without Fear — without Reproach 176 

Woes of a Tall Man, The 71 

Wolf In the Theatre, The 138 

Woman's Hand, A 136 

WOOD POEMS (see also "Bird Poems" ) : 
New England Woods, IS; A Cape Cod 
Wood Road, 111; Sunrise through the 
Trees, 154; The Comfort of the Woods. 
231; God's Quiet, 2S3. 

Woodrow Wilson 208 

Woodrow Wilson's Ears 202 

Wooing Time Puck 241 

Words 34 

Worker's Bleat, The 25 

WORLD WAR (see also "Patriotic"): 
Discoverers, IG; A Battle Bong, 29; 
A Sons of Heroes, 35; After the War. 46; 
Hospital Heroes, 48; A Hymn of Hate 
and Love, 53; Bonds — and Bonds, 65; 
United States. 80; To W. W. in Haste. 
81; AcknowledirmenU to the British 
Navy, 83; What Can We Do? 83; An 
Oratorical Difficulty, 85; The Trans- 
portation Situation, 86; Ood Save the 
World, 92; The World War, 98; The 
Nation's Couraire, 114; A Bong of Shame 
and Honor. 116; The Madness of War, 
119; Country. My Country, 120; The 
DoIlar-a-Year Men. 167; New Qlory. 169; 
A Psalm for the Times. 177; Bombard- 
ment after the War, 180; Keep the Flas 
Wavins. Jack! 180; L. Bond, Recruiting 
'Sergeant, 186; Forward! 186; Belgian 
Bells, 208; Our Country's Destiny, 209; 
G. A. R. to A. E. F., 221; Mr. Oet- 
thlngsdone. 223; On to Berlin, 227; 
Homes after the War. 234. 

World War, The Congregationaliat 98 

Worry Christian Advocate 161 

X-ray, The 193 

Yellow Mind, The 201 

Yellowthroat Witchery 19 

Youth's Companion 
Young Russia 177 








Harvard College Widener Library 
Cambridge, MA02138 (617)495-2413